One of the Exceptions
by Lavender Leo
Summary: Sometimes you lose the one you love, only to find the one you need. Hotch/Garcia with a dash of Prentiss/Rossi. Rated M for later chapters. Discontinued.
1. Chapter 1

**One of the Exceptions**

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I do not own Criminal Minds or its wonderful characters, yada yada, ad valorem, e pluribus unum, and all other necessary legal jargon to cover my tushie. If you recognize anything randomly mentioned in the story (especially a proper noun), it doesn't belong to me. Savvy?

_Starts at the end of episode 7x02. AU from there._

**Chapter 1 **

**Pasta and Life**

_Aaron_

The last few weeks had been surreal. Between the sandstorms in the desert, the whirlwind chase that led to Ian Doyle's demise and Emily's safe return, and the courtroom drama where the fate of the BAU hung precariously in the balance, SSA Hotchner was surprised that his head wasn't spinning on his neck like the girl from _The __Exorcist_. Instead, he was lined up behind a kitchen island with the rest of his team, watching David Rossi make spaghetti and smiling more than he had in years.

It occurred to him as Dave passed out a handful of noodles and educated them with gusto on _al __dente_ texture that he had plenty of reasons to smile. Tomorrow, he'd be seeing Jack; not via Skype with a dusty glare on his screen, but face to face, where he could hold him and feel him in his arms. And tonight, he was with the rest of his 'family.' Granted, there was still a bit of tension between a few of them, but they were all together, healthy and laughing. From where Hotch was sitting, that was definitely a reason for cheer.

He appreciated each and every one of them as he clinked his wine glass to theirs. Rossi, the man who had become his best friend and their gregarious host, who was clearly getting a kick out of being the center of attention. Prentiss, back from the dead and out of hiding, more relaxed than he'd ever seen her now that her reason to live in fear was gone. Reid, eyes still stinging with hurt but unable to stay away, clinging close to JJ's side like a lost puppy. JJ, visibly shaken by Reid's anger and her own guilt, but eager to be forgiven and for things to get back to normal. Morgan, strangely quiet and exhausted now that his personal quest to bring Doyle to justice was over, but clearly glad Emily was back. And, last but not least, Garcia, energetic and ever ready to help and please, a blessed reminder that despite the horror they saw every day, there was still innocence and goodness in the world.

It had come as a surprise to Hotch when Garcia had asked if the seat next to him was taken. Wasn't she supposed to be wrapped around one of Morgan's beefy arms, flirting with him shamelessly? Had things changed so much while he was gone, or had the desert sun fried his brain? Not that he minded, he decided quickly. Her closeness was a welcome feeling. There was a reason he often sought out the sweet, bubbly tech analyst after their more trying cases, and it wasn't just to thank her for a job well done. It was a reason he would never speak aloud or acknowledge too deeply within himself as long as Derek was the axis on which Penelope's world spun, but perhaps that was no longer the case. He would have to keep his eyes and ears open to know for sure.

Morgan and Reid were the first to leave the party. Hotch could still detect some awkwardness between Reid, Prentiss and JJ, but tonight had been a good first step in rebuilding their trust in one another. JJ had been the next to go, excusing herself so she could see Henry before Will put him to bed; then Emily, who hugged Rossi and thanked him for getting everyone together; and finally Garcia, who'd insisted on staying behind to help clean up since the cooking tutorial was on her behalf. At last, it was just the two men on the back deck, sipping pinot noir while the crickets chirped.

"So, it's all about timing and rhythm, huh?" Hotch mused, echoing Rossi's words earlier that night.

"In pasta and in life," Rossi confirmed, downing the last of his wine. "She'll be okay, Aaron."

"What are you talking about?" Aaron wondered.

"JJ. I noticed you kept an eye on her to make sure she felt included."

"It was the least I could do," Hotch muttered. "Keeping Emily's secret was my decision, but JJ is the one who paid the price for it."

"Reid will get over it. He showed up tonight," Rossi pointed out, "and you couldn't have pried him off JJ's side with a crowbar. Of course, you know _why_ he was more hurt with her than he was with you or Emily."

Hotch gave him a tight-lipped nod. Spencer wore his heart on his sleeve, and JJ's name was scrawled into it like a tattoo. He'd always known, as had Gideon, who once gave the youngest agent football tickets to share with 'the only person who called him Spence.' Even her marriage to Will couldn't dampen his devotion. It was touching, albeit tragic.

"You once said you were more married to this team than you had been to three ex-wives," Aaron recalled aloud. "I think we all know that feeling, to some degree. And it doesn't seem to be curable."

"What are you implying, Aaron?" Rossi scoffed.

He shot him a meaningful glance. "I know how glad you are that Prentiss is back."

The older Italian made light of it. "We're _all_ glad she's back."

Hotch levelly sipped his wine while his brown eyes challenged Rossi's fib.

"All right," Dave backtracked a step, "maybe I'm a little more glad than some people. Doesn't mean I'm going to act on it."

"You knew she was alive," Hotch murmured, "and I don't think it's just because you're good at your job. A hunch based on JJ's or my micro-expressions at the hospital wouldn't have been enough for you to form an opinion. She got in touch with you, didn't she?"

Rossi smirked. "Very good, Aaron. For a while there, you were falling behind."

"You weren't going to tell me?" Hotch accused.

"Right now, there's nothing to tell. We're just good friends," Dave admitted. "Emily's dealt with her past, but I still need to face mine. I'm not going to commit again until I can be sure that this time, it's for life. She deserves that."

"You'll figure it out," Aaron encouraged. "You already bicker like an old married couple, so at least you've gotten that out of the way."

"Very funny," Rossi said drolly, while Hotch chuckled at his expense. He topped off both their glasses then sank back into his chair. "So, did you notice anything different about the rest of our little family?"

"Morgan was pretty quiet." Hotch tilted his head. "Now that you mention it, I don't think I saw him talk to Garcia tonight, and that _is_ unusual. Should I be concerned?"

"Here's what I know," Rossi began, leaning forward and folding his hands. "Those two used to be thick as thieves, but these last few months, something's changed. Morgan has all but stopped calling Garcia from the field. The pet names and innuendo? History. And I'm pretty sure they've stopped spending time together outside of work. What does that tell you?"

Aaron considered that. "Maybe Garcia's boyfriend got tired of competing for her attention and asked him to back off."

"What boyfriend?" Rossi posed, surprising him. "If you're talking about that geeky kid who once demanded we talk _man __to __man_, he's gone."

"Kevin Lynch?" Hotch supplied, taken aback. Although he hadn't seen things get serious between the two tech analysts, he knew they'd been together for several years.

"That's the one. While you were in Pakistan, he was taking a job with the CIA and kissing both Garcia and the FBI goodbye."

Aaron's jaw tightened. Despite her cheerful disposition, Hotch knew Penelope was easily wounded. He also knew she was a talented actress; she could fool the team if she needed to, letting them think all was well to keep them from worrying. "How is she handling it?"

"Seems to be okay. She was a little upset at first, but she bounced back," Dave related. "To be honest, I never understood what she saw in that guy. He ate bacon doughnuts. Who _does_ that? That's like a crime against food."

"Garcia sees the best in people," Hotch murmured, mentally making a note to check on her himself. "Maybe she saw something there that we didn't."

"She'd just come out of major life-saving surgery when they met," Dave remembered. "It's more likely that the anesthesia hadn't quite worn off."

After a shared moment of levity, Hotch stared into his wine glass. "What do you think's going on with Morgan?"

"He's been obsessed with finding Doyle for months. Now that Doyle's dead and Emily's okay, he's starting to relax," Rossi surmised. "But that doesn't explain whatever's going on between him and Garcia."

"I'll see what I can find out," Aaron murmured. "The last thing we need is another rift in the team."

"I'm surprised you didn't find anything out tonight," Dave remarked, donning a mischievous grin. "You were sitting between them."

"What does _that_ mean?" he defended, arching a dark brow.

"Only that maybe you're not any more immune to the 'love among the BAU' disease than the rest of us," Rossi quipped. "At least, that's how _I_ interpreted the fact that you couldn't stop smiling and glancing at her out of the corner of your eye."

Hotch inwardly cursed, glaring. "You know the rules about fraternizing, Dave."

"Sure I do. I'm the reason most of them exist," he crowed proudly. "Rules like that were made to be broken. Besides, we both know our team isn't exactly diligent about following rules we don't like."

Aaron cringed. He couldn't deny it.

"Just think about it," Dave said, graciously ending the conversation before it got even more embarrassing for him. "In the meantime, there's one more interesting piece of news: Strauss is in rehab."

"Again?" Hotch shook his head. As big a thorn in his side as she'd been, he did pity the woman. At least she was getting help.

"That means you're in charge," Rossi nodded. "And to be honest, I'm perfectly ready to hand over the reins. I love the job, but I can live without the politics."

"So could I," Hotch sighed. "But all things considered, I'm glad to be home."

Rossi stood and clapped him on the shoulder. "It's good to have you back, _mi __amice_. Now are you positively stuffed, or do you have room for some cannoli?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 **

**Mysterious Meeting**

* Two Weeks Later *

_Penelope_

"Conference room in 5," JJ announced, pausing with an arm full of folders beside Emily's desk.

Garcia and Prentiss looked up, and a startled Reid dropped the yo-yo he'd been practicing with for a new physics magic show. Abashedly, he bent to pick it up. "Do we have a case?" he wondered.

"If we do, I don't know about it," the blonde agent replied, shrugging. "You'll have to ask Morgan. He's the one who called the meeting."

"Morgan?" Emily echoed, obviously confused. "That's weird. I wonder what this is about."

"Yeah. Me too," Garcia said faintly. _How would I know?_ she thought. _He stopped talking to me ages ago about anything not Revenge-on-Doyle-related. I thought surely things would go back to normal after Em came back, but… they haven't yet. I hope everything's okay. _With a sigh she hopped down from her perched position and straightened out her cherry-patterned skirt.

Reid pursed his lips and stuck his hands in his pockets. "Technically, Morgan hasn't called a meeting since –"

"We know, Reid," Emily interrupted softly, offering him a patient smile. As annoying as the endless stream of useless facts could get, she'd clearly missed him.

Once they were seated in the conference room, Rossi quickly followed and sat next to Prentiss. "Anybody know what this is about?"

"I was hoping you did," Emily mused, sharing a wry look with the older agent. "Guess we'll all have to wait."

"I'm Italian. He knows better than to make me wait," Dave harrumphed, folding his arms. Emily rolled her eyes and shook her head indulgently.

Hotch came in a minute after Rossi, his straight-legged stride at a harder clip than usual. Garcia bit her lower lip. _Uh-oh. I know that walk. Something's up and it is bad!_ His sternest glower was plastered on his face, underscoring the seriousness of whatever was going on. To Garcia's further befuddlement, he directed a meaningful glance her way, but it only lasted a second. Her heart began to race.

"Hotch, what's all this about?" Rossi spoke up for all of them.

"Morgan will be along momentarily. This is his meeting. He'll answer any questions you have," Aaron said stoically, clearly working to stay on his even keel.

Sure enough, Morgan came in and shut the door behind him, and he didn't take a seat. Neither did Hotch, Garcia noticed; he strode to the far side of the room and leaned against the wall, folding his arms. His brown eyes were grim, but they softened slightly as they found hers again, and he pressed his lips together in a firm line. _He's worried about me. How I'm going to take whatever it is we're here to find out. Why? What is Morgan about to say? _

With an audible exhale, Hotch tore his gaze away and turned back to Morgan. "Go ahead," he levelly instructed.

Morgan nodded, leaning forward slightly to grip the back of a chair. "Before I get started, I just want to say, I think the world of every person in this room. There is nothing I would not do for any of you. Being part of the BAU has been my whole life up to now, and this team – this family – has meant everything to me. But sometimes, life changes, and you have to change with it." The handsome mocha-skinned man paused and took a deep breath. "I don't know how to say this, Hotch."

"You said it to me," Aaron replied quietly, his grim look letting Derek know he wasn't going to break his bad news for him. "They need to hear it from you."

"Are you _leaving_?" Reid blurted out preemptively, shaking his head in disbelief. "N-no! We just got Emily back! How can you – "

"Reid, I don't _want_ to go," Morgan interrupted solidly, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment as though it pained him. "I _have_ to."

An awful silence fell over the room. JJ looked confused, Reid was choking back tears, Emily's jaw had dropped and one of Rossi's eyes was about to bulge right out of its socket.

Penelope was frozen, unable to move or think. She felt Hotch's stare on her again; his angry brows lifted into an expression of pity as their eyes met. Suddenly, she understood. He'd tried to warn her in the only way he could. He'd wanted to keep her from being totally blindsided. _Sweet, precious Hotch!_ But she didn't know that she was about to be suckerpunched one more time.

"Why?" she heard her own voice say, not realizing she'd even spoken.

"I'm taking the transfer to the New York office," Derek returned, guiltily avoiding her gaze. "I'm leaving at the end of the week."

"I didn't ask _where_," Penelope spat, trembling with hurt and rage, "I asked _why_."

Morgan looked up at her as though he was about to apologize for having run over her toy poodle with a monster truck. "Because that's where my fiancee wants us to live."

"You're engaged?" JJ managed, the words twisting her pretty face as though they tasted disgusting.

He nodded. "I've been seeing Shelley for six months. I didn't want to say anything until I was sure it was going to go somewhere," Derek explained. "We talked it over this weekend, and it's all planned out. We want to invite all of you up for the wedding and tonight, after work, I'd like for you to come and meet her."

Penelope's face burned with indignation. Shehad known something was wrong for months, but this was the very last place her mind would have gone. She'd attributed Morgan's strange quietude to grief over losing Prentiss and weariness from trying to track down her killer. Never had she imagined that all those times he'd turned her down for coffee and movies, those outings that had once been the highlight of every week, it wasn't just to run surveillance on Doyle's son. He was busy meeting someone else. Holding another woman's hand. Kissing her. Making plans. Making _love_. No wonder he always looked so tired.

_All those months we were working together, trying to find Doyle, he never even hinted that he was seeing someone! A__nd no matter how distant he got, I forgave him and tried to understand because I'd lost a friend too. I even felt _sorry_ for him! _

_This isn't right. How can he do this to the team? We need him here! Is it that easy for him to walk away from his family? _An even worse thought burrowed its way to the surface._ Is it that easy to walk away from me?_

Vaguely, she heard the sounds of muttered conversation in the room again – her boiling rage had temporarily shut them out. What was that set of syllables? Was that her name? ... What was her name again?

"Garcia? Hey, Garcia? Hello?" Morgan repeated. "Are you in there?"

She snapped back and saw Derek in front of her, worriedly looking through the plastic windows of her glasses. Her eyes narrowed to angry slits.

"If I were you," she warned in a low voice, "I would back up, because you are entirely too close to me for your own safety!"

"Whoa!" he breathed, retreating a step and raising his hands in mock surrender. "Baby girl, I –"

_"No!"_ she bit off, furiously standing with fists clenched around pink-painted nails. "I am _not_ your baby girl. I am a woman with feelings and a _heart_, which is apparently something you know nothing about! Go take your bite out of the Big Apple, Derek Morgan, and I hope it does to you what it did to Snow White!"

"Garcia!" she heard him call after her, but she was already storming out of the conference room, lamenting the fact that she was wearing extra-high heels. Once she was in the hall, she shucked them off, stomped flat-footed into the safety of her office, slammed the door, threw the shoes into the corner and slid back against the wall. That was when the flood descended – the Salta de Iguazu of tears that threatened to drown her, body and soul.

_Seven years. Wasted. Wasted on that – that – damn him, I can't even _think_ of anything foul enough!_

Waiting with the patience of Buddha for him to make a move, she'd made a thousand excuses for the man: _He's not ready to settle down. What that awful Carl Buford did to him when he was a boy makes him afraid to start a family. He was scared by what happened to Gideon and Hotch, scared of loving someone enough to make her a target for some unsub with a vendetta._ But Morgan's announcement had blasted all her theories to smithereens, and her heart along with them.

Kevin couldn't have been the issue. Morgan knew Lynch had broken things off with her months earlier. Even if he hadn't, she'd been shamelessly proclaiming her love and admiration to Derek for years now; he had to have known she'd leap right into his arms if he would only ask. But that was the ugly truth. Derek wasn't just sitting on his hands all these years. He hadn't _wanted_ to ask.

_He only ever saw me as a friend. A sister. There was never even the tiniest speck of attraction on his side, not even enough to give me a chance. _The realization tore through her chest with all the gentleness of a harpoon. _Stupid, stupid girl. Forget those IQ scores and knowing more code than any other hacker on the planet, those mean nothing; I am stupid and blind and…_ And, she was crying again, too hard to think.

_And Hotch_, she thought when she came to her senses again. _My God, t__hat poor man! This is the last thing he needs to deal with right now, and he was more worried about me than himself! How can Derek do this to him, when we're all trying so hard to keep this team together?_

Garcia shook her head and wiped at her face, taking some consolation in Hotch's concern. In a secret compartment of her heart, hidden even from JJ, her shrine for the angel that was Aaron Hotchner overlooked the golden pedestal she'd placed Morgan on until now. As far as Penelope was concerned, there wasn't a better man in the whole world than her brooding, dark-haired supervisor. He was, to her, a living, breathing reason not to give up on their sex as a hopelessly moronic bunch of jerks.

Even though he wasn't known to give praise, Hotch told her often just how much he appreciated her. More than that, he'd nearly made her cry with his repeated insistence that he never wanted her to change. He'd come to her play when her own boyfriend hadn't; even sent a single pink rose backstage to show his support. And he took her seriously, which almost no one else did. It was enough to melt any warm-blooded woman into a blob of helpless putty.

_At least I'm not dumb enough to think that he'd ever want me_, she thought wistfully, _let alone throw myself at him like I did Derek. I have yet to reach that particular level of Village Idiot_.

She knew men like Hotch – kind, intelligent and knee-weakeningly easy on the eyes – were like fairytale princes, far beyond her reach. Her run-in with "Colby," the angel of death, had ground that hardest of lessons indelibly into her psyche: that however insensitive he'd been about it, Morgan was right. If a man was too good to be true, he couldn't possibly want Penelope Garcia.

And Aaron Hotchner was definitely too good to be true.

_Just like Morgan was_, she wept, shaking her head. _Except that Hotch doesn't suck._

A knock sounded at her office door, interrupting her self-pity party. Penelope groaned and pushed herself up off the floor. "This had better not be Morgan," she threatened.

"It's me," JJ's voice related from the other side. "Can Emily and I come in?"

She opened the door, sniffed, and allowed the two women entry, then closed it back behind them. "Hey. Is this where we do the chick flick group hug, talk about how men suck and then five minutes later say we want them? 'Cause I can do the first two, but that last one, not so much."

"We are so sorry," Emily offered sincerely. "None of us had any idea. I don't even think Hotch knew until just before the meeting."

"We needed to make sure you were okay," JJ chimed in. "You kind of zoned out there for a second."

"I just couldn't believe it was really happening," Garcia related shakily. "All that time, I just thought it was his way of grieving, you know? The moodiness and the avoiding. I thought he was pushing me away because it hurt so much when he lost _you_, and he never wanted to feel that way again." She shook her head slowly back and forth. "How could I have been that stupid?"

"You're _not_ stupid," Emily assured her. "You couldn't have known. It's not your fault."

"He'll be gone soon," JJ murmured. "Hotch might let you take a few days off, so you don't have to see him again."

She shook her head. "If I go home, I'll just sit there and think about it, alone. I'd rather be here with you guys."

JJ gave her a sympathetic smile. "I don't know what to do about tonight. As long as Morgan's been part of the team, I hate to be unsupportive, but… right now, I'm not exactly his biggest fan."

"I think we should go," Emily argued. "I sort of want to see this girl he's screwing all of us over for."

Caringly, JJ pulled Penelope into a hug. "If you don't want to be alone tonight, come stay with Will and me. I defy you to think about Derek Morgan when you have Henry running around you in circles making car-chase noises."

Despite herself, Penelope choked out a giggle. "Will's influence?"

JJ shut her eyes and nodded, stifling a laugh. "He lets him watch old reruns of the Dukes of Hazzard. Henry loves it. You should hear his impression of Rosco P. Coltrane."

"Ah, married bliss," Prentiss chuckled, and the three shared a laugh. She pulled Penelope in for a hug of her own. "You know we're here if you need anything."

"I know." Touched, Garcia grinned widely. "I love you guys!"

"We love you too," JJ smiled.

"Hey, Garcia? Is that your phone buzzing?" Emily said then.

Penelope rolled her eyes. "I thought I turned it off. I must have just put it on vibrate." She flounced over to the desk to get it. "I don't know who would be dumb enough to – _oh_. Boss-Man."

"Does Hotch honestly expect you to work right now?" Emily snorted.

"He needs me to pick up some files from his office and take them down to storage," she reported flatly. "I am _so_ not wearing the right shoes for that."

"Do you want us to take them for you?" JJ offered.

Penelope sniffed and shook her head. "Thanks, but I'll be okay. He probably thought working would take my mind off things, and he's probably right." She glanced down at her feet. "I just hope he doesn't expect me to wear shoes while I do it."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**All the King's Men**

_Aaron_

If someone had told him yesterday that this would happen, Aaron wouldn't have believed it.

With practically zero warning, Morgan had just punched a man-sized hole in his still-recovering team. To say it upset him was a gross understatement. Derek was about to move on with a clean slate, in his career and his personal life. Hotch, however, would have to quietly go behind him and pick up the pieces of his shattered co-workers. All the king's horses and all the king's men might not be able to put his team back together after yet another loss, but SSA Hotchner was certainly going to try. A responsible leader would do nothing less for his subordinates. A man who cared would do nothing less for his family.

Seeing Reid break down was painful. Only a couple of weeks earlier, he'd threatened taking delotid again to escape from the pain of losing a friend. Thankfully, he'd mended his fences with JJ and Prentiss, or he couldn't have taken this additional blow. Morgan stayed in the conference room and talked to Reid after the meeting, trying to help him make sense of things, but he may as well have stuck a band-aid on him after open-heart surgery. If Prentiss hadn't come back when she did, he might have wound up in rehab alongside Strauss. Who knew what was going to happen to him now?

Garcia had him just as worried. Severe emotional trauma could be as debilitating as any drug. Momentarily lost in pure shock, she'd bolted as if shot out of a smoking barrel when Morgan tried to speak to her. Her initial reaction was a classic combination of denial and anger. Those he could deal with, but he knew he had yet to see the real damage unfold.

_Garcia might not admit it, even to herself, but I believe on some level, she hoped she and Morgan would eventually be together. You don't get as close as those two did without developing some feelings beyond friendship. Even Lynch couldn't take center stage in her life away from Derek, which might have played into his decision to leave,_ the unit chief reasoned. _Now, she's been displaced as Morgan's best friend and possibly more, by someone she didn't know existed. At the very least, it's wounded her pride, betrayed her trust, and undermined her sense of self-worth._ As a profiler, that was his professional assessment. As a man, he was exercising considerable restraint not to hit something.

The text he'd sent Garcia wasn't technically a lie. There _was_ a box of file folders to be sent down to storage. But the truth was, they'd been sitting in his floor for a week. In the process of settling back into his office after the long absence, removing extraneous items from the room could be put on the back burner – unless, of course, one needed an excuse to check on a friend.

She showed up five minutes after he sent it. Despite a visible attempt to fix her makeup, the vertical stripes left by her tears hadn't been completely blended away. There was no hiding the redness in her eyes, and, for some reason, she was barefoot. "Sir?"

"Come in, Garcia. Where are your shoes?"

"You said there was stuff to take to storage," she explained, her voice slightly shaky. "Obviously you didn't see the heels I was wearing, or you'd know that the laws of physics prevent me being able to carry a box and stand upright in them at the same time." The blonde tech analyst pointed at the box beside his chair. "Is that it?"

"That can wait. Shut the door and have a seat," he instructed.

"Okay." Clearly confused, she closed the door, sat in the visitor chair across from his desk and primly crossed her ankles.

Hotch scooted his desk chair just in front of hers and sat close enough that their knees almost touched, hands thoughtfully clasped. "Penelope, I want to apologize for what happened at the meeting."

"Why?" she wondered, taken aback. "You're not the one who's leaving. You didn't even know, did you?"

"No," he confirmed. "According to Morgan, he made the request some time ago. He didn't think another position would open up this quickly, and even if it did, he assumed he would be denied as long as I wasn't here to lead the team. It was done through Strauss, which is why it got delayed and didn't show up in your system. I didn't see the paperwork myself until this morning." It was hard for him to look her in the eye and say what he had to next, but he forced himself to do it. "He was right. The Bureau wouldn't have transferred him and left this team without a leader. But now that I'm back…" Hotch pursed his lips, wishing he could bear the pain for her. If he could ease her sadness by shifting some of the responsibility from Derek onto himself, he would gladly do it. "Morgan wouldn't be going if I wasn't here. So, I _am_ partially to blame."

"No!" Garcia cried, so suddenly it startled him. "Sir, this is _not_ your fault!"

He blinked several times, surprised by how quickly she'd jumped to defend him. "Garcia –"

"How could Morgan's decision to leave have anything to do with _you_? You weren't even here when he made it!" she argued passionately. "I see what you're doing, and it's not going to work. It's the same thing you tried to do with Reid when he was so hurt with JJ. You tried to make him mad at you instead, because you'd rather suffer yourself than see one of us in pain. And as selfless and sweet as that is, it wouldn't work on him and it's not going to work on me."

Though his brows were still locked in a straight line, Hotch's eyes were wide and visibly affected.

"Morgan chose this, not you," Garcia went on. "If there is one thing I know with all my heart, it's that you would never do anything to hurt this team or anyone on it. You couldn't. That's not who you are."

"Thank you." Touched by her loyalty, Aaron gave her a forlorn smile. "I'm glad to hear that when you're looking for the good in people, you see some in me."

"It's easy with you, sir," she replied earnestly. "There's nothing else to see."

Penelope couldn't have given him a higher compliment. Had Hotch not been a master of emotional restraint, he might have wept. "Garcia, I know how hard this must be for you," he said softly, turning the focus back to her before she could disarm him further. "If you need some time, I want you to take it. And, while I'm assuming you'd rather talk to JJ or Prentiss, if you want another perspective, or even just someone to listen, you can come to me."

"Thank you," she whispered. Her gaze lingered for a moment, then she abruptly pushed her chair back and stood. "I guess I should go on and take that box downstairs."

"You're not going home?" he wondered, standing with her.

"Can't go where you already are," she shrugged, brown eyes shining up at him. Damn, but she knew how to tug his heartstrings. "Is it just the one?"

"That's it for now. Thanks," Hotch murmured.

"Of course." She paused in the doorway. "Sir? You know how you usually end our little chats by telling me you never want me to change?"

"What about it?" he asked, pleased that he'd made an impression.

"I just wanted to say… likewise."

As the blonde analyst turned and strode barefooted out of his office with the container, a warm feeling swelled in his chest. _Only Garcia_, he thought fondly. He'd called Penelope in hoping to offer her comfort, and ironically, she'd ended up making him feel better. _Morgan had seven years of this_, he realized, _and he still wasn't satisfied. What more could he have wanted?_

His stomach sank as the man in question appeared in the doorway Garcia had just vacated. "Hotch, you got a minute?"

Determined to stay cordial, Aaron nodded. Until Friday afternoon, Derek was still part of the team, and he would honor that as best he could. "What's on your mind?"

Morgan shut the door behind him. "Did you talk to Garcia?" he asked with concern.

Inwardly, Hotch bristled. "I did. Have you?" he returned coolly.

"I just got through talking to Reid," Morgan answered, shaking his head. "I would talk to Garcia, but I got the impression she's not too happy with me right now."

"That shouldn't surprise you. You know firsthand how much this team has been through in the past year. Now they're facing another loss," Aaron reminded him, "one that's harder for them to accept, because unlike Emily and JJ, you had a choice. As for Garcia, I would think it would be obvious why she's struggling with your decision more than the others."

Derek folded his arms defensively. "How am I supposed to know what's going on with her if she won't talk to me?"

Hotch's jaw tightened. He was trying hard to remain impartial, but Morgan was pressing his luck. "Have you tried putting yourself in her position? Seeing the situation from outside your own perspective?"

As though he were being purposefully obtuse, Morgan cocked an eyebrow. "And what exactly am I supposed to see?"

The unit chief exhaled sharply. He hadn't wanted to do this, but if Morgan really wanted to know what was wrong, then he was going to tell him. "That she's not just losing her best friend. She's losing a man she loves."

The other agent shook his head slowly back and forth. "No. It was never like that with us. She knew that."

"Did she?" Aaron retorted. "Are you certain you made that clear?"

Derek's handsome face twisted with umbrage. "You think I led her on?"

"I think your relationship would have looked very different if you had been up-front with her about your intentions from the beginning," Hotch said evenly. "You spent years blurring the lines of what the two of you were to each other. We all saw it. Even when she was involved with another man, she was holding out hope for you."

Still, he wouldn't accept it. "You're wrong."

"Whether or not you admit it to me, you knew how Penelope felt about you," Hotch contradicted. "The honorable thing would have been to talk to her in private and let her down gently. Instead, you waited until the last possible minute and broke the news, in front of everyone, that she would never be anything more to you than a friend. It hurt her, and she didn't deserve that."

Derek was silently fuming by this point, barely containing his ire. "Hotch, I don't know who you think you are – "

"I'm the man who's cleaning up your mess." Though his voice remained calm and steady, his face couldn't conceal his contempt. "This team is my only priority. I'll do whatever I have to do to protect it. If you want to leave here with my respect, then prove that you still care about them as much as they care about you. Make things right before you go."

Looking thoroughly scolded, Morgan considered Hotch's request, met his eye again, then left his office without another word.

Aaron sighed and sank into his chair. _And I thought tensions were high in the Middle East_, he mused wearily. He sincerely hoped that Derek would take his words to heart, so everyone could part as friends before he moved on.

Especially Penelope.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**Everything Happens for a Reason**

_Penelope_

Penelope flattened her back against the elevator wall, tucked her iPhone in her sweater pocket and sighed. Usually, the marvels of technology made her smile, but not right this second. Why, oh why had she thought Facebook stalking while she had a minute was a good idea?

"Please, when I open my eyes, let it be a bad dream," she muttered. "Auntie Em, there's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like –

_Ding_. When the doors slid open, Morgan was standing behind them.

Penelope sneered down at her pink-painted toenails. "Damn. I guess that trick only works if you're wearing _shoes_."

"What trick?" Morgan asked, cocking an eyebrow at her bare feet.

"Nothing. Don't worry about it." She arched her chin and started to move past him, but he halted her by placing an arm in her path.

"Penelope," he murmured. "Come on, now. Do we have to do this?"

"It's the elevator or climb lots of stairs," she shrugged flippantly. "Easy choice for me."

"You know I'm not talking about the elevator." He got inside with her, pressed a button, then let the door shut behind them, ignoring her gasp of protest. "We need to talk."

"Oh, _now_ you want to talk?" she mocked. "You had six months to _talk_ to me, Derek, and you didn't. Not one lousy word! You couldn't be bothered to talk to your _old_ best friend or spend any time with her; oh, no, because now you have a _new_ best friend who looks like Halle Berry, probably weighs all of 102 pounds and whose activities include jogging, gymnastics, and in her spare time, shaking her money-maker courtside for the NBA. Clearly, no contest."

Derek shook his head, puzzled. "How did you –"

She held up her iPhone, scowling. "I'm pretty sure she posted your engagement on Facebook the nanosecond after you told us."

Morgan exhaled roughly. "Look, I know you're mad because I didn't tell you. I just didn't know what to say."

"_Huh_. Maybe something along the lines of 'Hey Garcia, I don't have time for you anymore because I'm seeing a girl who poses for men's calendars in a bikini.' There. How easy was that?" she quipped.

"Ouch," he scoffed to himself. "I guess Hotch was right."

"Right about what?" she demanded, her chest twinging at the mention of their supervisor.

Morgan put his hands on his hips. "You're jealous."

"Wait a minute. You two were talking about me?" Garcia was quick to ask. She wasn't sure if she should be grateful or offended.

"That wasn't a denial," he observed.

"And _that_ wasn't an answer." The elevator hummed as it started going down. "We can't stand in here all day."

"Well, I'm not letting you leave until you promise we'll talk again later," Morgan said firmly.

Garcia rolled her eyes. "All right, fine. But you'd better come hungry, because you're going to be eating a lot of crow."

"Then I guess it's lucky for me I've got a strong stomach," Derek chaffed back, giving her a meaningful look as the elevator came to a stop. "I'll come see you in a bit."

"Can't wait," Penelope exhaled, smiling awkwardly at the counter-terrorism agent who got on.

*LL*

Fortunately for Garcia, if there was one thing the FBI was good at, it was keeping her a busy woman. When Morgan came back, she was mid-stream in a search query.

"Hey." Morgan's head poked into the open door of her 6'x9' cavern. "Can I come in?"

"Working up leads for the alternate BAU team," she halted him tersely, fingers clicking keys at ludicrous speed. "They have got a nasty one in Baltimore. This unsub is on the warpath and – aha! I think I've got something. Gotta call in."

"Okay. I'll wait." Morgan quietly retreated to the back of her office, and she got back into Screen Siren mode.

"Hey, are you ready for this? There were three boys released from juvie in April of '09 when they came of age. Pete Stanwyck went to Boston and is working in a local diner as a short-order cook, living with his uncle; Roger Morrin has been in and out of rehab and right now he's _in_, so he's a no-go; but Jason Whissel, who works in building services for a local hospital, did _not_ show up for work this morning. Address is coming to your phones at the speed of sound."

"You really are the best, Garcia," Derek praised when she clicked off her headset and whirled round to face him. "It won't be the same in New York without you."

She bit her lower lip, then decided it was at least worth a shot. "You don't have to leave. Nobody wants you to."

He folded his arms. "Not even you?"

Garcia took a shaky breath. "I'm not saying I'm not _seriously_ mad at you right now. But personal feelings aside, this team needs you, and you're just walking away." She shook her head. "How do you think Emily feels? She didn't know if she would ever get to come back; now she's here and you're leaving. And Reid – God, you _know_ what all this has put him through! And JJ and Hotch – "

"Right now," Morgan replied, "I'm concerned about _you_."

"No you're not," she challenged softly. "You shut me out a long time ago. I just didn't know it until today. You could have told me, Derek. After that crazy Battle guy shot me… you could have said something. That would have been the perfect time."

His expression was instantly penitent. "Garcia, don't –"

"Don't what? Bring up bad memories?" she whispered, a fresh flood of tears springing to her eyes. "It can't possibly hurt more than finding out that you hid the most important relationship in your whole life for months because you were afraid of how I would take it. No, scratch that – because you _knew_ how I would take it."

His full lips pressed together and his eyes bulged with regret. "I never wanted to hurt you."

"Then you should have told me the truth. That you could never think of me as anything but a friend." Unable to look at him, she stared at the wall instead. "Maybe you thought you did. I mean, you did say 'smoking-hot' plus 'likes Garcia' equals 'red flag.' And in that case, it equaled 'unsub.' You'd think I would have figured it out."

"Penelope –"

"No, it's okay. I should've learned my lesson. I was stupid to think a seriously attractive man could ever want me." She hung her head. "I just thought maybe you were different."

"Garcia, look at me." She was taken aback when she saw Morgan on his knees in front of her, and even more so when he reached up to tilt her chin to look at his face. "Hey. Look at my eyes. You are a beautiful woman, inside and out, and that is the truth. If I ever made you think or feel that that wasn't true, then I apologize with all my heart."

She sniffed, shaking her head. His hands covered hers, warm and weathered from the field, and held them close, exacerbating the ache in her chest.

"I know you're still upset over Lynch," he murmured. "But we both know he wasn't good enough for you. That's why you never let things get serious with him, and why you didn't go with him when he asked. Now, I'm leaving, and you feel like it's your fault. Like if you were somehow better, I wouldn't be going. But that's not true. You didn't fall short, Penelope. I did."

"What?" she ejaculated.

"There are parts of you I don't know how to appreciate," he pointed out, "but some other man will. Like your love for the stage. Hotch saw you on that flier, but nobody else even noticed until he said something. And, how you put yourself on the back burner and take care of everybody else first, especially this team. You know, when you tried to take on JJ's job and it was too much, I didn't even notice you needed help until Hotch told me."

She blinked rapidly, bemused. "Is it just me or do you keep mentioning Hotch?"

"If I am, maybe there's a reason." Derek smiled softly. "You're right. We did talk about you, earlier today, and Hotch was really protective. For a minute there, I thought he was gonna bite my head off."

Garcia choked out a chuckle. Despite Hotch's surly demeanor, he was cool and level-headed to a fault; normally, he only showed anger when it was necessary to achieve an end. "Are we talking about the same SSA Hotchner?"

Morgan nodded. "For a minute there, he had me boiling mad, but when I got to thinking about what he said, he was right. I hadn't looked at things from your perspective. You've been through a lot lately, and I haven't exactly been here for you." He paused. "I haven't been the friend you needed. So, I know I can't be the man you deserve. But there _is_ someone here who's been looking out for you."

"What are you saying?" she wondered aloud.

"You always say everything happens for a reason," Derek reminded her. "Maybe Kevin was there to get you through a really hard time in your life, and left when you didn't need him anymore. And, maybe if I wasn't leaving now, I wouldn't have noticed someone else being so concerned over you. Someone who puts the team first and himself last, just like you do. Someone who just happens to be a big fan of the theatre. And, maybe even a certain leading lady."

Penelope flushed scarlet. _"Derek!"_

"Well, look at those sparkling brown eyes! I think I'm onto something," he grinned devilishly.

"You're on _crack_, that's what you're on," she attempted to divert him, pushing him away.

"I don't believe it. You've got a thing for Hotch!" Morgan chortled, standing.

"Will you keep your voice down?" Garcia panicked, thankfully not spying anyone near the open door. "This day has been insane enough without adding your _theory_ to the general craziness."

"All right, calm down, it'll be our little secret," he soothed, still smiling.

"There's nothing to keep secret. Yes, I think the world of him, just like I always have _you_; but remember that little talk we just had about good-looking men and how they don't like me?"

"And remember how I just said you were beautiful?" Morgan brought up. "Look, I won't say anything if you don't want me to. But you deserve to be happy with a man who's gonna be good to you. And however much he and I may butt heads, Hotch _is_ a good man. Just don't sell yourself short, okay?" He leaned down to kiss her forehead.

As they finished making up, they were too mutually relieved at the possibility of being friends again to notice some very soft footsteps retreating just beyond her doorway – so soft, they could only be made by Italian leather shoes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**A Gentle Nudge**

_Aaron_

Hotch tried not to wince as his fourth shot of Maker's Mark burned down his throat. Once they'd dutifully met Morgan's fiancee over coffee, he hadn't been able to turn down Rossi's suggestion that they go to a pub for a bit of something stronger. After today, they needed it.

"Ease up, Aaron," Dave cautioned from the stool beside him. "Keep knocking them back that fast and you'll be too hung over to work tomorrow."

"Maybe that's not a bad thing," Aaron suggested darkly.

Rossi's salt-and-pepper brows arched with concern. "That doesn't sound like you."

"You're right," Hotch apologized hastily. "Sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"I'm surprised you did, even to me," his friend admitted. "You think a few days off might help?"

"I'd rather have a few days without a team-rending crisis," he muttered. "Although everyone seems to be doing considerably well."

"We're a resilient bunch. Gotta be in our line of work," Rossi nodded, sipping his scotch. "Don't worry. I'm sure we've seen our last crisis for awhile."

"How sure are you?" Hotch joked dryly.

"Just a gut feeling. If you want certainties, ask Reid – although I'm sure he'd say that the odds against something else going wrong after so much already has are incredibly low."

Aaron smirked. He could always count on Dave's laid-back nature to put things in perspective. "What did you think of Morgan's fiancee?"

"Nice enough girl, I guess, although I don't get the attraction. She's about as curvy as a telephone pole and has as much personality as a can of ravioli."

Hotch snickered, realizing as he did so that the alcohol was starting to loosen him up. "I didn't know you liked curves. Emily's fairly thin," he remarked.

"She's got it in the right places," Dave sighed happily. "Besides, I fully intend on fattening her up some."

"Don't tell _her_ that," Aaron warned, in case their fellow agent was as finicky about her weight as Haley had been.

"She's involved with a man who cooks authentic Italian comfort food," Rossi chuckled. "She knows what she's getting into."

Aaron pursed his lips with mirth. "Fair enough."

"So what did you think of _Shelley_? I got the feeling you weren't too impressed."

"She's what Morgan wants," he shrugged. "As long as he's happy, that's all that matters."

"And what do _you_ want?" Rossi probed more seriously. "What would make _you_ happy?"

Aaron shook his head, confused. "What do you mean?"

"I don't think it's just the job that's got you down," Dave said carefully. "It's been three years, Hotch. No husband could be more devoted than you've been to Haley. It's a testament to love if I've ever seen one. But living your life and trying to find love again doesn't mean you love Haley any less. She would want you to be happy. And it's pretty easy to see that you're not."

Hotch's glower descended like an old, comfortable mask slipping back into place. He couldn't deny that, despite throwing himself into his work after Haley's murder, his grief still ate away at him when he was alone. Sometimes he still lit a candle and talked to her, with or without his son. "One of the last things Haley said was that she wanted Jack to know I wasn't always so serious. She wanted him to believe in love. But I don't know if I can keep that promise. I can't expect my son to believe in something I'm not sure I believe in myself."

"It's not too late," Rossi assured him. "I think you still believe. You just need the right person to believe in."

Aaron exhaled so heavily his shoulders sank. "Dave…"

"Just hear me out. I know you're scared about trying to find someone. You met Haley young and it worked out; you've never really had to _look_. But there's got to be someone out there you can trust, with your heart and with Jack's. Someone who can appreciate how important the job is to you. Someone good and caring, who can always make you smile and, maybe sometimes, even laugh."

"You make it sound too easy," Hotch murmured.

"Doesn't _have_ to be difficult." He smoothed his bearded chin, feigning deep thought. "You know, come to think of it, I _may_ know someone. Blonde girl. Very bubbly. Sat next to you at my house a few weeks back."

Hotch unconsciously drew in a sharp breath. Obviously, Dave hadn't forgotten what he'd thought was a subtle show of interest. _Unless he's seen more than just a few glances over pasta_, Aaron realized with alarm. Although he'd never spoken of it, following his divorce, he'd found more comfort than he wanted to admit in the glow of Garcia's ever-present sunshine. Her steadfast kindness was a rock that he'd secretly come to depend on. A part of him had even envied Morgan for having so much of her love to himself all these years. Though he hadn't quite recognized the feeling for what it was, he'd watched with fondness from afar, never thinking he might have been noticed. He should have known that while he was watching Penelope, Rossi had been watching him, and wondering.

"_Uh-huh_." Rossi nodded to himself. "I thought that might ring a bell." He took in Hotch's shocked reaction with mild gratification. "You thought I didn't know?"

Aaron's face slid wearily down onto his hands. "How long?"

"A while." When he looked up, his expression must have made Rossi reconsider. "A year; maybe longer? Hotch, you're looking at me like I knew something you didn't know yourself."

"I didn't," he confessed to Rossi's surprise. "Not until recently."

Dave gave a lengthy pause, taking this in. "You know, I went to check on Garcia this afternoon. But Morgan was in her office, so I thought I'd wait outside."

"Dave, please tell me you didn't eavesdrop," Aaron chided.

"What? I was _waiting_. And the door was open." He took another drink of his scotch. "Aren't you the least bit curious?"

Hotch glared at him. Knowing Rossi would taunt him until he gave in, he conceded the point. "What did you hear?"

"Well, the predictable part is, she chewed Morgan out and he apologized. What I didn't expect to hear was your name." Rossi grinned as he jerked his chin abruptly. "You'll be pleased to hear that Morgan gave you a glowing recommendation. And, if I'm not mistaken, it wasn't badly received."

"Morgan did _what_?" Aaron snapped.

"Did you miss the part about it being well received?" Dave teased.

"No, but – how did he –"

"We're _profilers_, Aaron," the genial older man reminded him. "Look, I know you've been trying to fight this; to follow the 'rules.' But this is the first time I've seen you take an interest in someone since Haley passed away. I find that significant."

"Even if you're right, the timing is terrible," Hotch hesitated. "Garcia's hurting and vulnerable. Whatever she thinks of me, I know she's grieving over losing Morgan."

"You're both grieving, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't spend some time together. It might be good for both of you." When Hotch looked dubious, Rossi frowned. "Look, if it makes you more comfortable, just see her as a friend for now. Get to know each other. Have some good, clean fun. Remember what _fun_ is?"

Aaron scoffed. "I'll think about it," he said noncommittally.

"_He'll think about it_," Rossi muttered, clearly not appeased. He cursed under his breath in Italian. "While you're thinking, you might consider, you wouldn't just be doing this for _you_. She could use a friend. A _real_ one, who plans on sticking around."

His brows furrowed as he contemplated that. If Garcia had become as isolated in the last few months as he had in the last few years, getting out and about might not be such a bad idea. He certainly didn't want her to retreat into loneliness and give up the way he had. The thought of her sunny smile going dim was almost too sad to imagine.

"What did she say about me?" Hotch asked then, genuinely curious.

Dave lit up. "_Aha!_ So, there _is_ a spark there! _Bravo!_ In that case, I definitely heard the term 'good-looking man.' And that she thinks the world of you."

"Really?" Hotch allowed himself a small, crooked grin. Maybe Dave _was_ right. Maybe there _was_ something there to believe in. "You don't happen to know where she went while we were out with Morgan, do you?"

"JJ's," Rossi replied, cocking an eyebrow. "Emily said she's on godmother duty tonight. Why are we asking?"

"No reason," Aaron lied, straight-faced.

"Are you thinking of _calling_?" Dave almost couldn't contain himself.

Hotch's brows shot up. "Isn't that what a friend would do?"

*LL*

For all his nonchalance about it to Dave, Hotch couldn't help feeling nervous. Sitting in his SUV, his long fingers shook slightly as he pulled up Penelope on speed-dial. He squeezed his eyes shut. It rang three times and he was about to hang up when she answered on the fourth.

"Fortune has smiled on you, this is Garcia."

"Hello, Penelope?"

"Oh! Sorry, sir, I didn't know that was you; I'm just now leaving JJ's and was hugging Henry bye, so I didn't see the caller ID. What's going on? Is there a case?" she asked hurriedly.

"No, there's no case." He pressed his lips together nervously. _Good grief, she thinks it's a work call! _

"Oh." He could hear the astonishment in her voice. "Well… is everything all right? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Hotch winced. The second place her mind had gone was to think it was an emergency. Couldn't he just call because he wanted to? Was he really that dull and predictable? "Actually, I was calling to see how you were doing."

"Y-you called just to check on me?" she questioned dubiously.

"You sound surprised," he pointed out.

"Well… I _am_ surprised. I mean, not in a bad way, it just caught me off guard."

Hotch frowned. "If you're busy –"

"No!" she hastily interrupted. "No, not at all! I'm just getting in my car –" he heard the evidential dinging and car door shutting in the background – "and pulling out of JJ's, on my way home." She paused awkwardly. "Sir? Are you still there?"

"Aaron. This isn't a work call," he reminded her. _Dull and predictable_, he affirmed to himself, his stomach sinking.

"Right. My bad. _Aaron_. Um… so you were calling to check on me… because I wasn't at the coffee shop to meet Morgan's S.O.?" she guessed.

Already, she'd lost him. "What's an S.O.?"

"Significant other? Sorry. Net shorthand. Sometimes I forget."

Aaron couldn't help but smile. "Just checking on you in general. I hope that's all right."

"Of course it is," Garcia said readily. "I'm actually really touched."

"Good." Now, they were getting somewhere!

"So, did I miss anything earth-shattering, or was it fairly uneventful?"

"We didn't stay long," he confessed. "Dave and I went for drinks afterward."

"Ouch. That boring, huh?"

"Well, she's not you." The compliment came out before he realized he'd said it. A long silence yawned between them. "Penelope?"

"Yes. Sorry. I'm here. Just…" There was a deep breath. "That was really, really sweet."

"Just being honest." Hotch's chest twinged happily. This was going better than he'd hoped. "I know we discussed it earlier, but I just wanted you to know that I _am_ here for you. Not just as a colleague, but… as a friend."

"Thank you," she murmured. "That means a lot to me."

"You mean a lot to the team," he assured her. "And to me. If there's anything you need, please, I want you to call me."

He took her shaky breath on the other end as a good sign. "So… I can call, even if I just want someone to talk to?"

"That's the offer," he affirmed.

"Okay," Garcia replied. Her voice was thankfully easy to read; she was a little confused, but clearly pleased. "In that case, _mon capitan_, you can expect a call from me soon."

"I'll be here," Hotch promised. "Good night."

"Good night, Aaron." There was a breathy giggle before the call disconnected.

Aaron grinned to himself. _I guess it is._


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**Mission Aphrodite**

_Penelope_

Garcia sat in the driver's seat for a minute after she got home, processing. _You know, this might officially qualify as the wierdest day ever. I feel so torn. Part of me just wants to play a vigorous game of Sock'em Boppers with Morgan's head. And, help me Obi-wan Kenobi, part of me is wanting to do something entirely nicer with Hotch's head. _

Self-consciously, she flushed ten shades of red._ The head on his shoulders, I mean. I would kiss the head on his _shoulders_. Not the… oh my God, why did my mind just make like a ninja turtle and go straight into the gutter?_ In her defense, she hadn't had company of the more intimate sort since Kevin left four months earlier. Still, Garcia knew picturing her handsome boss naked – however tempting – was probably jumping the gun. Shaking it off, she collected her purse and keys and headed inside.

_Just because he called to check on me doesn't necessarily mean Morgan's theory was right,_ she told herself sensibly, locking herself in for the night. But how many years had she worked with Hotch and never received a purely personal call? _And it _was_ personal. He made me call him Aaron. He made it clear it wasn't about work. And he wants me to talk to him, as a friend-friend, not as a work-friend. Something is definitely up… And Morgan is a profiler, so he would know the signs…_

"Wait a minute," she halted herself aloud before she could get too excited. "Remember _why_ we had that conversation in the first place. Morgan's _leaving_. He's walking away from this family because of that… _person_," she finished, determined to be polite even if no one was around to hear it. "So, I'm not supposed to be happy right now; I'm supposed to be mad. Really, really _mad!_"

But the fact of the matter was, the flame of her fury had already been diffused. And it was Morgan's suggestion, not his apology, that had done it. How had such a small seed of hope – in someone she _never_ would have considered attainable – eclipse the pain she should have felt from Derek's decision? It just didn't make sense.

"Sleep," she counseled herself, more than ready for the comfort of warm sheets, snuggly pajamas and her teddy bear. "Yes, today has been crazy, but it will all make more sense after I sleep. I hope."

*LL*

The next day, it was back to work as usual in the BAU. Whatever personal crises they had, there would always be lives that needed saving, and those had to come first. This time, the team flew to Albuquerque, sans Garcia. Morgan went with them, not wanting to miss out on one last case with the team.

Penelope caught her breath when Hotch called late that afternoon, but deflated when it turned out to be strictly work-related; he just needed a list of local plumbers or men who worked on water lines. _Duh, PG, he's not going to say anything about whatever-this-is while they're on a case,_ she mentally smacked herself. _Hotch's mind is where it needs to be: focused on catching this unsub. Do likewise!_

They were still gone on Wednesday, which left Penelope way too much time alone to think. And think. And re-think. And, just to be thorough, to think some more. "_Ugh_. You know you hang around profilers too much when…" she scolded herself, shutting down her system for the night.

On her way home, she rued the fact that Emily had bought Sergio an automatic feeder and refilling water dish; she could have used some kitty company to ease the loneliness. As she pulled into her driveway, she was considering that maybe it was time to adopt a cat of her own when her cell phone unexpectedly rang. Her eyes widened when she saw who was calling.

"Oracle of Garcia," she answered, heading inside. "Ask your question, noble Roman, but know that I'm off the clock."

"Y'know, Roman and Italian aren't exactly the same thing," Rossi explicated facetiously from the other end.

"Oh, but they were just a scant 1500 years ago," she teased back, kicking off her heels and going to the kitchen to dig up some dinner. "Any breaks in the case?"

"Nothing new. We're going to get some sleep and go at it with fresh eyes in the morning."

"Okay." Penelope hesitated. "So… if you're not in need of my dazzling computer skills, what can I help you with?"

"I was just wondering if you've talked to Hotch lately."

She arched an eyebrow. "Um, he called me yesterday to get that list of –"

"Not about work," Dave interrupted.

Garcia's jaw dropped. "What the – is this some kind of joke? Are you and Morgan in on this together? Because if it is, let me tell you, I'm about to be furious."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, sounding confused.

She paused, reevaluating. "What are _you_ talking about?"

"Hotch said he was going to call and check on you, to see how you were handling the news about Morgan."

"Oh! He did," she nodded with relief. "It was really nice of him."

"_Uh-huh_. He's a nice guy." Dave waited a moment, as if expecting her to say something. "Was that all you talked about?"

"Pretty much. He said if I needed to talk, I could call."

"I see. I was hoping he would have said more than that." Rossi sighed loudly.

"What were you hoping he would say?" she asked, suddenly anxious.

"Before I get into that, there's something else I want to talk to you about," Dave replied. "I know how much Morgan meant to you, and what you hoped for."

"I didn't exactly make a secret out of it," she admitted, leaning against the counter.

"I know. And I'm really sorry that you got hurt," he said with feeling. "Hotch is worried about you, too. More than he's letting on. For me, it's easy to see why. I just wondered if you'd noticed what I have."

Garcia shook her head slowly back and forth. "I don't think so. What am I supposed to have noticed? Is he okay?"

"He's been better," Dave confessed. "The way you probably feel right now – hurt, abandoned, wondering how you fell short – Hotch felt that same way after his divorce, and worse after what happened to Haley. He's still holding onto his grief, and it's eating away at him." After a deliberate pause, he added, "He's afraid that Morgan leaving will do the same thing to you."

Penelope couldn't say she was surprised, but it still made her sad. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Maybe," Rossi said quietly. "I suggested he talk to you, for two reasons. One, burdens shared are burdens halved – I think you could both use somebody to listen. And two, because of the way I've seen him looking at you."

Penelope's heart skipped a beat. Struggling to form words, she managed, "Th-the way he… you mean… Is this for real?"

"I take it this is good news?" he asked hopefully.

"I mean, if he _did_ think of me that way, I'd be overwhelmingly flattered and happy," she related breathlessly, "but… are you _sure_ about this?"

"I'm sure," Dave warmly confirmed. "You asked if there was something you could do. When you talk to him again – and I hope that's soon, because the man's been checking his phone every few minutes – see if he wants to get out and do something fun. I'm sure he'll say yes if you ask him, but hell might just open a hockey rink before he'll ask you himself."

Penelope beamed, scarcely containing a girlish squeal. "Okay. In that case, Mission Aphrodite is hereby a go."

"Mission Aphrodite?" Rossi echoed dryly. Before she could answer, he went on, "Don't tell me the details. It's probably better if I don't know."

"Plausible deniability," she nodded. "Good call!"

"Right," he murmured, no doubt shaking his head. "On that note, I think I'd better get some shut-eye."

"Yes! Get some sleep so you can be all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed when you find that unsub," Garcia grinned broadly. "And hey, Rossi? Thank you."

"Sure thing, kitten. That's what friends are for."

There were exactly 4.2 seconds of stunned silence after they hung up before a peal of unbridled glee escaped her lungs, one so loud she was surprised the neighbors didn't call to complain.

*LL*

"To call or not to call," Garcia debated the next mid-morning, drumming her fingers and eyeing her phone. On one hand, she'd had a plea from Rossi all but begging her to call Hotch. On the other hand, she might reach him at a time when they were in a high-speed chase or a standoff, and that would be far from helpful.

"Text," she decided to compromise, typing in her message and squeezing her eyes shut as she pressed the send button.

_Hi Aaron. Not a work text. Just letting you know I didn't forget. Will call soon, when you're not in the field. Be safe. _

A few minutes later, she was pleasantly surprised to hear the tone indicating a reply.

_Thanks, Penelope. I will. _

Almost immediately after, she had one more new text pop up, from Rossi.

_I know it was you. HE SMILED. Thanks, kitten._

Penelope couldn't help but giggle. Could this really be happening? The staid unit chief was seldom seen without a glower. If a simple text from her could induce a grin, then Mission Aphrodite was definitely getting off to a good start.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**Pillow Talk**

_Aaron_

Stifling a yawn, Hotch dropped his go bag in the floor of his bedroom and started undressing. Jessica would be keeping Jack for the night, as the team had gotten in so late from Albuquerque. He mentally gave thanks for the millionth time that he was lucky enough to have such an arrangement with Haley's sister, enabling him to keep the job he loved and keep his son as well. Down to a T-shirt and boxers, he took time to hang his suit and tie and brush his teeth before turning off the light and slipping between the sheets.

The case had been exhausting, but Aaron's eyes remained stubbornly open. He blinked several times in the dark and sighed. So, it was going to be one of _those_ nights. With moderate patience, he got back up, went to the medicine cabinet in his bathroom, downed a pill with a cup of water and trudged back to lie down.

The insomnia was somewhat of a recurrent problem. Given the sheer volume of stress the man accumulated, it was little wonder, but that didn't make it easier to live with. When he was married, Haley had provided respite after the most trying days; sleep never failed to find him if he could just hold her body close to his. And while a pillow and a sleeping tablet might have been a poor substitute, the wrong woman would have been a worse one.

He didn't have long to bemoan his sleeplessness, though, before his ringing cell phone snapped him back to the land of the living. Hotch reached onto his night-table with a weary sniff, wondering what couldn't wait until tomorrow, but a broad grin stretched his cheeks when he saw the name above the number. This, he'd waited for long enough.

"Garcia," he answered warmly, sitting up. He hadn't expected to hear from her tonight; she'd already gone home for the evening when the team got back. "Hi."

"Hi," Penelope's voice anxiously chirped. "I didn't call too late, did I?"

"If you had, I wouldn't have answered," Hotch teased.

"Yeah, good point," she chortled. "I just wanted to make sure I wasn't waking Little Hotch. Or you. That would be rude."

He smirked. "Your timing is perfect. Jack's staying over with Jessica and I wasn't asleep. What's on your mind?"

Her voice brightened. "Well, since I caught you at a good moment – I was hoping maybe I could make a suggestion."

Knowing Garcia, that could be literally anything. "What are you suggesting?" he asked wisely before agreeing to it.

"Well, I was thinking. I don't really have plans this weekend, and if I'm trying to keep certain things off my mind, sitting around the house probably isn't the best idea. So, I thought if you were free and you wanted to… maybe we could go out and do something fun?"

Hotch's brows shot up in a single line of disbelief. He mentally made a note to check his sleeping medication to see if hallucinations were a side effect. "You want to do something fun – with _me_?" he clarified.

"What's the matter? Afraid to be alone in my evil clutches?" the bubbly blonde sported.

"It's not that," he chuckled at her spoof, "I'm just… surprised. You're not afraid I'll be dull company?"

"Not at all! I mean, don't get me wrong, you're not the laugh-a-minute Adam Sandler type, but you have a sort of British-comedy dry wit going on that's actually really enjoyable."

"Thanks, I think," Hotch humphed.

"That was a compliment!" Penelope assured him. "Sarcastic banter is a major staple of that 'stiff upper lip' type of sexiness. Think Colin Firth. It's a good thing."

Aaron blinked rapidly, taken aback. "Sorry – did you just say I was _sexy_?"

"No," she diffidently peeped, "I just sort of implied it… Anyway, you were tons of fun at Rossi's house!"

Appeased by her awkward flirtation, he graciously let her change the subject. "I was surprised you stayed closer to me than you did Emily that night," he recalled aloud. "I know how much you missed her."

"I did miss her," Garcia said with sincerity. "But it had been almost as long since I'd seen you, and anything could have happened to you in that desert – snakes or scorpions or crazy people with explosives. I pretty much stayed worried because unlike here, I couldn't keep tabs on you and send help if you needed it and…" She sucked in a sharp, frightened breath as he fell very silent. "I missed you, too," she finished feebly.

In the dark, he felt a strong twinge in the center of his chest. "Most of the time, they kept me pretty far from the combat zone," Hotch revealed quietly, "but I'm touched that you were concerned."

"Of course I was concerned!" she replied fervently. "You're my friend."

"Well, I'm glad I have you to look out for me now," he murmured, earning a sweet sigh from Penelope. "So, about this weekend?"

"Yes?" Garcia perked up.

"Assuming another case doesn't come up and you keep the fun within reason, I'm free Saturday night."

"Saturday," she echoed happily. "Okay. Does dinner and some games at one of those Laser Tag centers sound within reason?"

"Yes, but don't you have to have children with you to go to one of those places?" he wondered. He'd never seen a man his age at one of them who wasn't in Dad-mode.

"Not necessarily, _but_… since I don't want to horn in on what would normally be Daddy-time with Jack, 'cause I know you don't get nearly enough time together, I thought we could all three go and Jack could take a friend so we'd have even numbers to play," she suggested.

"You wouldn't mind if Jack went with us?" Hotch couldn't help but be surprised. How many women would be willing to go on a date with a child – or two – tagging along?

"No. Why would anybody mind? He's a sweet kid."

Her genuine confusion only added to his increasingly high estimation of her. Aaron grinned widely. "He is. And if it ends up being just you and me?"

"I'd be all right with that, too," she laughed matter-of-factly. "Of course, if you feel awkward going in the arcade without a kid, I could always wear my hair in pigtails and hit you up for money."

"Isn't the idea to get _away_ from what we do at work?" Hotch jabbed with an airy chuckle.

Garcia choked out an indignant gasp. "I _know_ you did not just hate on the hair! All right, Agent Wisecracker, you better bring your A-game, because it is _on_. Expect no mercy in the gameroom."

_And what about in the bedroom?_ his mind challenged, instantly conjuring an alluring image of him lowering her to his bed with a kiss.

Suddenly, Aaron's jaw tightened. His brown eyes went dangerously wide. Where had _that_ come from?

"You still there?" she asked softly.

"Sorry. I'm here," he muttered, shuddering. The mental picture had been entirely too tempting.

"Are you getting tired?" Penelope guessed. "Well, that's a silly question. I'm sure you were tired when you got in. I should probably let you go so you can get some rest."

"I'm glad you called," he inserted, before she had a chance to think otherwise. "We'll talk tomorrow, all right?"

"Sure. Um, good night."

"Good night."

Bemused, he laid his phone back on the nightstand. _What just happened? _Aaron couldn't deny that he'd always found Penelope attractive, but he'd never gone so far as to fantasize about her in that way. He didn't fantasize about _anyone_ that way. Even after all this time, he only thought of Haley; his releases, on the rare occasions he had them now, still made him ache for the loss of her. He put his head in his hands and exhaled roughly. _Haley would want me to move on. I know that. So why did it feel like I betrayed her?_

He knew what Dave would say. That this conflicted feeling was inevitable. That at some point, someone would come along and make him want to love again, and he'd have to let go of his grief in order to embrace her. _And he'd be right. _Hotch sighed. _It's time._

Thankfully, the pill kicked in before he could analyze things any further; his eyelids grew increasingly heavy. _Tomorrow_, he reminded himself, surrendering to the sweet bliss of oblivion.

*LL*

It was Morgan's last day in the BAU. Though the team wasn't thrilled with his decision to leave, they'd scraped together enough love and good memories to throw him a small going-away party in the break room. JJ brought in a tray of orange dreamsicle cupcakes as well as Will, who wanted to say goodbye to Morgan personally.

Hotch watched Penelope closely. She stayed behind the others, wearing what he could discern to be an obligatory smile. When Derek moved to hug her, she rallied herself and even produced a Garcia-esque giggle, but Aaron knew it was like one of her stage performances – convincing, but not real. This was confirmed when Morgan went on to hug Prentiss. Instantly, Garcia's comic mask fell away to reveal a look of pure dysphoria, one only he noticed.

She sensed his gaze and looked up, forcing a smile for his sake. Aaron returned it with a small, grave one of his own. On an impulse, he withdrew his cell phone from his pocket and motioned to it with a subtle glance, then winked.

That did the trick. Garcia's smile broadened, and a bit of sparkle returned to her eyes.

_That's more like it_, Hotch thought, replacing his phone in his pocket with a private grin. He couldn't stand seeing Garcia so disheartened. They would all miss Morgan's contributions to the team, and his presence as a friend. That much was certain. Still, for Penelope's sake, this was for the best. Seeing Derek's face on a daily basis would keep digging the knife further into her heart; but if he was removed from her everyday world, she might stand a chance of healing and moving on.

Aaron pondered that as he took a cupcake and a fresh mug of coffee back to his desk. Last night, he'd been tired, and the sudden resurgence of his sexual appetite had swept him into a temporary panic. Today, however, with a good night's sleep behind him and no new case to keep him occupied, he could examine his feelings with a clearer perspective.

_I guess being 'just friends' was never realistic_, he admitted, sitting and taking a bite out of his cupcake. _I think I've wanted more for a long time. I was just afraid to acknowledge it. But there isn't any reason to be afraid, is there? _He smiled to himself. _No. Not of her._

"Can I come in?"

Hotch almost choked as Garcia's face peered around the door. "Of course. Please."

She smiled shyly and shut the door behind her. He watched her approach with wide eyes, taking in her green and yellow patterned dress and free-flowing blonde curls, then cocked an eyebrow when she giggled and put a hand over her mouth.

"What is it?" he asked.

"You've got some frosting –" She motioned to her upper lip. "There."

Hotch felt his ears turn red with chagrin; thanks to his distracted state, he'd forgotten to bring a napkin with him. He swiped a finger along his upper lip. "Did I get it?"

Penelope shook her head, laughing sweetly. "No. It's right – here, let me help." Blushing, she came close enough for him to smell her body spray – apple, if he wasn't mistaken – and took the back of his hand, guiding his finger to the correct spot and wiping. He thanked heaven her eyes were so engaging; otherwise his own eyes might have wandered to places they shouldn't, at least not so soon. Hotch gulped at the soft warmth of her hand on his. How long had it been since he'd felt a woman's touch against his skin? "There you go. All better," she said in a singsong voice, patting his hand before letting him go.

"Thanks," he murmured when he regained his composure.

"My pleasure," she beamed, making him wonder. She stood and backed up a step. "So, you said we'd talk today. I wanted to see when would be a good time."

"Now is fine," Aaron replied, thankful for years of FBI training in keeping his expressions in check. Without them, he would have looked like a helpless schoolboy. "I'm sorry I rushed off the phone last night."

"No, it's okay! I shouldn't have kept you up," Penelope apologized hastily, sitting across the desk from him.

"You didn't," he assured her. "I promised to be there if you needed to talk, remember? I know this has been a trying week."

"We'll get through it," she encouraged. "It'll be okay."

Hotch pressed his lips together. "Will _you_ be okay?"

Visibly affected by his concern, Garcia nodded. "Yeah. I'll be fine. Just don't cancel on me tomorrow, okay?"

"Don't worry. There's no chance of that," he smirked, bolstering her smile. "Just tell me where and when. I'll be there."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

**Goodbye and Hello**

_Penelope_

After today, Derek Morgan would no longer be part of the BAU. He wouldn't be there to lean back in his chair and brag about his workouts to Prentiss, shake his head at Reid's naiveté, argue with Hotch, or complain about the coffee. It hardly seemed possible. _But it's happening_, Garcia thought, gathering with the others at the entrance to the bullpen. _He's really going. We're really losing him._ She didn't need to remind herself that she actually lost him a long time ago – whatever part of him had been hers to begin with. If she did that, there would be no getting through this.

"Come on now, don't look at me like that," Derek kidded as he hugged her one last time. "It's not like we're never going to see each other again."

Penelope sniffed, wiping away a slew of fresh tears. "I know," she muttered, although she wasn't sure she believed it. "I just don't want to say goodbye. It doesn't feel right."

"Then don't. Goodbye is one thing you'll never have to say to me." Morgan smiled sadly, then moved on to hug Reid, Prentiss and finally JJ.

"It's been an honor," he told Hotch, shaking his hand.

"For me as well," Aaron replied genuinely. "Good luck in New York."

"Don't be a stranger," Rossi said warmly, drawing Morgan in for a quick hug of his own. "We're still your family."

Derek grinned. "That's good to know. I'll miss you, Dave. I'll miss everybody."

Morgan took one last bittersweet look around the room at his friends, then, before he could get mired down with regrets, turned and stepped through the glass doors that led out of their unit.

_He's gone._ For a moment, Garcia was frozen in place. It was as though time had stopped. Vaguely, she became conscious of Hotch's presence behind her. His quiet strength was her mooring, holding her steady as waves of sadness and emptiness over the loss of her best friend threatened to sweep her away. Closing her eyes for just a moment, she allowed herself to lean into it, feeling strangely comforted.

Unfortunately, there was no such comfort for Reid. His face was a transparent screen into his soul, betraying a deep sense of loss, and of anger. "Wonder how long it'll be before someone else leaves," he grumbled to no one in particular, thin arms folded in front of him like a shield. He whirled on his heel and made a beeline for his cubicle.

With unsettled glances, the others followed suit and somberly dispersed – everyone but JJ, who laid a gentle hand on Garcia's arm. "Hey. You okay?"

"I will be. Thanks," she replied shakily, covering JJ's hand with her own. "Is Reid going to be all right? I feel bad. I've been so caught up in how bad _I_ felt, I didn't see –"

"Don't worry about Spence. You're always there to make all of us smile. It's our turn to be here for you," JJ murmured. "I tried to talk to him, but… I don't know. Maybe it's too soon to expect him to trust me."

Penelope pursed her lips. JJ was probably right. Spencer _had_ forgiven her and Emily for their deception, but the wound was still fresh. It would be some time before he could trust either of them fully.

For Reid, Morgan was like a big brother; someone he looked up to, turned to for advice on 'how to be a guy' and, most importantly, depended on for stability after his father-figure, Jason Gideon, disappeared. _It probably feels like he's lost Gideon all over again_, Garcia realized with a sympathetic pang. _He doesn't need to go off on his own right now. What he needs is to know that his family's still here. That there are some of us who aren't going anywhere, and that we're going to stick together. _

Her resolve firmed in her heart. "It's okay, Jaje. I got this." Patting JJ's shoulder, she made her way to Reid's desk, where he was slipping his messenger bag over his head. "Hey. How you doing?"

His mouth was drawn so tightly, it pulled his chin taut. "I'm great. First we lost Emily. Then, half of the people I trusted most in the world lied to me. Now, Morgan's gone, and he's never coming back. Things couldn't be better."

Garcia sighed. "Sounds like the Doctor could use some fun therapy, stat."

"Sorry. I don't think I'm up for _fun_ right now," Spencer muttered, averting his gaze.

"And I don't think you remember who it is you're talking to," she said firmly. "Come on. You are way too smart to think you can argue with me and win."

When he stared at his shoes, Garcia bit her lip. "Do you think you're the only one who's sad to see him go?" she asked softly.

"Of course not. I just don't understand how you can dust your shoulders off and go right on like nothing's changed." He looked up with heartbreakingly doleful eyes. "I'm not like you, Garcia. Something bad happens, you cry, and then you bounce right back with a smile. I can't do that."

"Let me tell you a secret about this smile, Agent Megamind. Most of the time, when I smile, it's not because I'm happy," she explicated honestly. "It's because I'm _scared_."

Reid's brow furrowed with confusion. "That doesn't make sense."

She concentrated for a moment, thinking of how best to translate something purely emotional into a logical train of thought. "Well… it's just that we see so many sad, awful things every day. I'm scared that if I ever stop smiling – if I stop looking for reasons to laugh and be happy – then all the bad things will get to be too much, and it'll overwhelm me until I can't see the good in the world anymore. I don't think I could live like that. So… when you see me smiling, it's not necessarily because I'm feeling all fine and dandy. It's just how I hang onto the hope that, if I'm not okay right then, someday I will be. Now does it make sense?"

Reid blinked rapidly, then scoffed out something slightly akin to a chuckle. "Um… no? Not really." He tucked his hands in his pockets, looking slightly more consolable. "I don't think I'm up for anything that requires talking, but maybe we could do a movie?"

Garcia grinned. "You're on. Just let me go lock up the Cave of Wonders."

_Thank you_, JJ mouthed as Garcia passed her desk.

Penelope gave her a subtle wink. _This is helping me as much as it is him, Sunshine_, she thought. _Excited as I am about tomorrow, I'm glad not to be moping around alone tonight_.

Someone else wanted to thank her as well. While she was shutting down her babies for the weekend, an almost imperceptible knock caught her attention. Hotch was standing like a statue in the doorway, briefcase in hand. "You're going out with Reid?" he asked meekly.

Looking up, she gave him a facetious shrug. "Well, you know, I like to keep my options open."

The dignified unit chief shook his head with mild amusement. "Have fun tonight. Both of you. Consider that an order."

"Yes sir, Head Hotch-o," Penelope puckishly replied. "So, I'll see you tomorrow?"

"I'll be there at six-thirty," he affirmed, a rare gleam in his dark eyes. "Good night, Garcia."

"Good night." Smiling dreamily after him, she picked up her purse as her screens went dark and locked the number combination behind herself.

Reid was waiting for her by the elevator. "That was weird," he greeted her, looking puzzled.

Garcia's brows shot up. "What, sweetness?"

"Hotch just left, and… when he said good night to me, he seemed normal, but… when the elevator closed, for just a fraction of a second, I saw him _smiling_. Hotch doesn't smile. And even if he did, he'd have no reason to do it today. He's just as upset as the rest of us about Morgan leaving." The genius was thoroughly mystified.

_Oh!_ Her heart leapt with joy. Of course, for Reid's sake, she couldn't emit a girlish squeal, but it was serious work to keep it contained. "_Huh! _Maybe he's got a date. Wouldn't that be something?" she suggested aloud, skirting the truth with aplomb. "So, about this movie – what did you have in mind?"

*LL*

Penelope turned in an anxious circle in front of the mirror. Shooting for something between 'cute' and 'conservative,' she'd chosen a pink blouse with a belted waist, charcoal capris and baby doll wedges with a strap around the ankle – she'd even given the contact lenses another shot. On the outside, she looked confident and perky. On the inside, though she was nervous and shaking.

_All right, Garcia, you need to get a hold of yourself! This is not another Derek Morgan, 'crush going nowhere for years, then getting your heart broken' situation. He _likes_ you. Rossi said so. If anyone would know, it'd be him. And that look when he was leaving yesterday… wow. Talk about melting a girl like chocolate fondue! So, whatever happens tonight – or doesn't – it'll be okay. Really._

Her inner pep-talk calmed her slightly, but didn't prevent a gasp and a jump when her doorbell rang. "Oh gosh. They're here." After a steadying breath, she hurried to the front of the house.

Her door was about halfway open when Jack pre-emptively piped up, "Hi, Miss Penelope!"

"Hey there, Jack! Good to see ya," she sunnily replied, turning her attention to him first. "You ready to have some fun?"

He bobbed his head enthusiastically. "Yeah!"

"Good! 'Cause I am, too," she nodded, smirking. "Thanks for letting me come with you guys."

"My friend Braden is coming," Jack told her. "Daddy said he wanted to bring a friend, too."

"Well, I'm glad he did." Her eyes drifted up to meet Aaron's dark ones, noting on their way that he looked great in dark jeans and a pale green Oxford with the sleeves rolled up. "Hey."

Hotch stared back at her with an ebullient grin. "Hi. You ready?"

"_Yes!_ Just give me two seconds to grab my bag." Leaving the house, she wondered, "So, what's the plan, good sirs?"

"Games first, dinner afterward," Hotch replied, opening the passenger door for her. "I hope that's okay."

"Sure!" she nodded readily, thanking him as she got in. _That was sweet! What a gentleman._

He came around the other side and got in, then glanced back. "Hey, buddy. Did you buckle up?"

"Yes, Daddy," the sandy-haired boy said promptly.

"Good job. You can put your headphones in and play Sonic on the way, if you want."

"Okay!" He didn't have to be told twice. Within seconds, he was happily oblivious to all but the world inside his PSP.

"Privacy screen?" she guessed.

"Exactly," he affirmed, backing them out of her driveway. "Braden is on Jack's soccer team. His parents are meeting us at the center. They offered to let Jack sleep over, but they're leaving at eight, so I hope you don't mind if it's just us for dinner."

Simpering, Penelope arched a wry eyebrow. "They offered, or you asked?"

Her winsome supervisor gave her a sidelong glance. "You think I'm trying to get you alone?" he jocularly countered.

"I don't know," she flirted. "Am I that lucky?" When his eyebrows jumped up to his hairline, she blushed scarlet in horror. "Oh, God, you were – I am _so_ sorry!"

"No, don't be." Hotch offered her a conciliatory smile, then focused on the road again. "Sorry I reacted like that. I wasn't offended, just surprised. We didn't really make things clear, so I didn't know what you might be thinking."

"About what?" she whispered, still on pins and needles.

"About me." Aaron paused, choosing his words carefully. "I know this week has been… painful, and I don't want to make it worse. You said you wanted to go out to get your mind off things. I came tonight because I wanted to help you do that; because you're my friend, and I care for you. But I think you know that's not the only reason."

If her jaw dropped any further, Jack could fit a baseball inside her mouth. Fortunately, he was paying them no attention whatsoever.

"I know you're hurting right now," he went on soberly, eyes fixed on the road ahead, "and that you might be for some time, so… I'm not asking for anything. You might not even be interested, and if you aren't, that's okay, I –"

"Whoa! Just hold up a second!" Garcia gasped, clutching her chest as she attempted to catch her breath and speak. "Aaron... of course I'm interested!"

"You are?" His face instantly brightened.

"Um, hello, _Profiler?_ Had you not noticed the distinct effort I made on your behalf?" she scoffed, almost laughing. "Toned-down wardrobe, attempt at wearing contacts, hair down because someone specifically said they didn't like my _pigtails_?"

"I didn't say that," Hotch corrected smoothly, still beaming.

"You made fun of them!" Penelope recalled with indignance, although her heart was a zillion times lighter now that the truth was out and they were indeed on the same page. "Which reminds me, I've got some payback to dish out when we play air hockey, so I hope you came prepared for agony."

"Uh-oh," he grinned, playing along. "Will you go easier on me if I admit that I noticed your efforts and they were appreciated?"

"They were?" she beamed, momentarily forgetting her game-room vendetta.

"When Jack and I came to the door," Aaron admitted, "you were looking at him. I was looking at you."

Garcia's eyes sparkled. Mission Aphrodite hadn't just ignited, it was over the moon and picking up speed.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**Daddy's Girlfriend**

_Aaron_

Turned out, Penelope wasn't kidding. Although he won at air hockey – due to his 'mad unsub-chasing skills,' according to his peppy blonde date – it wasn't by much. Garcia moved faster than he'd have thought someone with a sedentary desk job was able to, and her reflexes were almost feline-quick. She definitely made him work for his narrow victory. A second game proved her point about his stamina – the demands of being a field agent gave him more endurance – but not for an instant did she give less than her best. In some strange way that he couldn't define, it made him proud of her.

Slightly perspiring and laughing, they walked back to where Braden's parents, Peter and Lynn, were watching the boys in the arcade. "That was a great game. You know, I haven't played air hockey since college," Hotch confessed.

"Really?" She seemed surprised. Apparently, she wasn't aware of just how little he got out.

"Mm-hmm. I think you could have beaten some of the guys I was friends with."

"Yeah, if they were of the nerd persuasion," Garcia good-naturedly shrugged.

"You kept up with _me_. I was impressed," he remarked, and he meant it.

"You were, huh?" she grinned widely. "Well, the night is young. Maybe I'll have time to dazzle you with some of my other talents."

Years of masking his expressions allowed him to slide by with barely a raised brow at her suggestion, but his body zinged excitedly with the possibilities of what she might mean. A smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. "Maybe so," he murmured, the gleam in his eye mirroring her own. Whatever did or didn't happen tonight, Hotch was just glad to see her happy. _And not crying over Morgan_, he thought protectively.

As far as he was concerned, Derek was a fool. True, the two men seldom saw eye to eye on anything, but Aaron would have thought that loving Penelope would come naturally to any man with a pulse. Instead, year after year, he saw Morgan remain shallowly insistent that the women he dated fit a literally narrow definition of 'beauty.' And, for that, he'd missed out on what was right in front of him – someone beautiful and caring, with a heart of pure gold.

_His loss_, Hotch thought tenderly. _My gain_.

Their little group moved into the bowling area and set up a couple of 'kiddie bumper' lanes for the boys. Watching closely as they played, Hotch noticed that Jack was getting on well with Garcia. The playful blonde would high-five him when he scored, and instituted a 'happy dance' policy when one of them got a spare or a strike. He got a real kick out of it when Penelope showed his son how to granny-bowl – backwards.

"Having fun?" he asked him when Garcia and Lynn were taking their turns.

Jack nodded. "Can Miss Penelope come with us again?"

"If she wants to," Aaron smiled. "Does that mean you like her?"

"Yeah. She's funny. And she makes you laugh. You _never_ laugh, Daddy."

Hotch winced. He didn't realize he'd allowed Jack to see him so sad.

"Your turn, Jack-a-rooney!" Garcia said, coming back towards them.

"Okay." He got up, eyeing her for a second and clearly thinking something over. Hotch watched closely, not sure what was going on in his son's head. "Miss Penelope?"

"Yes, sir?" she chirped.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

Aaron's stomach lurched.

Garcia's jaw dropped. She blinked several times before letting out a nervous chuckle. "No, sweetie, I sure don't."

"That's okay. Daddy doesn't have a girlfriend, either," Jack informed her.

That was enough. "Jack, Braden's waiting on you. Go ahead and take your turn," Hotch directed calmly.

Jack sighed, his shoulders drooping. "Oh-kay." He went on and got his ball.

Penelope came and sat by him, smiling sheepishly. "Was that going where I think it was going?"

"Probably," Hotch admitted, folding his hands nervously in front of him. "Sorry about that."

"I didn't mind," she assuaged softly. "That was totally precious."

"It was," he agreed, glad she'd taken it well, "but Jack shouldn't be the one asking."

"_Oh_." Garcia's eyes were practically glittering, with no glasses in front of them to mask their shine.

_God, she's beautiful._ Tonight, it was apparent just how much so. He didn't object to her usual wardrobe – not that it exactly inspired lustful musings – but this softer, simpler look was incredibly attractive to him. Usually, the bright colors and dizzying patterns she wore, as well as the vivid makeup and hair, demanded that they be the center of attention. But without her outlandish styles to serve as a distraction, he could focus on the woman rather than the clothes – and the woman was stunning.

"Aaron?" Peter's voice snapped him out of his trance. "It's almost eight. Want to play this last turn and call it quits?"

"All right." With an apologetic smile at Garcia, he and the other man took their last bowls, then they started changing their shoes back. Hotch couldn't resist a look up as Penelope was putting her wedge heels back on. Her golden curls tumbled down in a loose heap, revealing the slightest hint of ample cleavage as she bent over. His breath caught. Before she could look up and catch him in the act, though, he was already up and helping Jack put away his ball.

Outside, Aaron took Jack's overnight bag and backpack out of the truck and gave them to Peter, then knelt down to give his boy a hug. "Don't forget to brush your teeth, okay? I'll pick you up tomorrow morning at ten." He kissed his forehead. "Love you."

"Love you too, Daddy." Jack paused. "Am I in trouble?"

"No." Hotch shook his head, confused. "Why would you think that?"

Glancing behind him at Garcia, Jack whispered in his ear. "You wouldn't let me ask Miss Penelope if she wants to be your girlfriend. I thought you were mad."

Aaron ruffled his son's light brown hair. "I'm not mad at you, buddy. I just want to ask her myself," he whispered back. He stroked Jack's face and smiled, made sure he was buckled into the vehicle, then thanked Peter and Lynn for coming.

"We had a good time," Peter grinned.

"And it was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Garcia," Lynn added. "I hope we get to do this again sometime!"

"I would love that," Penelope grinned, nodding. She waved at Jack and Braden in the back of the green car as Hotch came alongside her, and the other family pulled out and drove slowly past. Once they were gone, she tilted her chin up to eye him saucily. "Well, sir, looks like you've finally gotten me alone. Whatever are you going to do with me?"

"_Aaron_," he reminded her, smirking, "and that depends. What do you want me to do?"

"Oh, I can think of several answers to that question," she replied, playfully latching onto his arm and winding hers thru it, "however, most of them are _not_ suitable for a parking lot where children might overhear. Or on the road, where you might wreck."

"Which one _is_ suitable?" he wondered. He enjoyed the flirty banter immensely, but feeling her sidled against him was better still.

"Feed me!" she groaned comically. "And before you ask, just about anything will do; I am not picky, just hungry. Who knew that playing games with the kiddies could give you a serious case of the munchies?"

Hotch's narrow cheeks drew back with mirth. "How about Chinese?" he suggested, releasing her arm so he could open the door for her. "There's a good place not far from here."

"Perfect. Go forth, Fearless Leader!"

Concealing a laugh, Aaron complied with her request. "What did you think of Peter and Lynn?" he asked once they were on the road.

"Except for Will and JJ, they are possibly the cutest couple I have ever met in my life," Penelope told him honestly. "They are such sweet people."

"They are," he concurred. "I think you won them over. And there's no question that Jack likes you."

She beamed. "He's a really great kid. Of course, I guess it helps that he's got a really great dad."

Hotch's chest swelled with pride. "Thanks."

"You are ever so welcome," she said brightly. "So, I have an idea. Why don't we make that Chinese a takeout order, and go watch a movie at my house?"

Aaron glanced over at her questioningly. "You're inviting me over?" he spelled out, astonished.

"Yeah! I mean, if you want to come," Garcia added uncertainly.

"Of course," he said hastily. Unconsciously, he stepped on the gas.

_Is that why she thinks I sent Jack to stay the night with Braden? So we could…_ Even in his mind, he couldn't bring himself to say it. _I just thought we might be home too late to hire a babysitter, and Jessica had plans. I wasn't trying to imply that I expected us to… to… _Hotch gulped. Maybe Garcia's notion that he'd wreck if she told him what she wanted him to do to her wasn't so farfetched, after all.

"You're awfully quiet," she spoke up. "Was that a bad idea?"

"No! Not at all," he reassured her, snapping out of it. "Sorry. I was just thinking about what I want."

"_Unh-unh._ That serious face was _not_ over a debate between lo mein and szechuan chicken," Garcia replied, calling him out on it. "Talk to me. What's going on in that gorgeous head of yours?"

His brows shot straight up in a single line. He pulled off the road and into the restaurant parking lot, then turned off the truck. They unbuckled their seat belts in an awkward silence, then he turned to face her, and saw the confusion in her eyes. "You think I'm gorgeous?" he echoed in disbelief.

"Um, have you looked in a mirror lately?" she countered, arching an eyebrow. "If you weren't so great at tracking down scary unsubs, I'd suggest you model suits for Macy's."

Hotch choked out a noise that wasn't quite a chuckle, and he felt his ears reddening. "Wow. I'm… flattered."

"Good," she nodded, "but you're not getting off the hook that easy. What's bugging you?"

"I think I'm nervous," he replied, which was definitely true.

"You're nervous?" Penelope repeated, shaking her head. "You can stare down serial killers without blinking, but _I_ make you nervous?"

"You're a beautiful woman," Hotch explained quietly, "one I deeply respect, and… I've been out of the dating game so long, I'm not sure how this is supposed to work. I don't know what you're expecting, and I don't want to disappoint you."

She eyed him with compassion, as if she knew how much courage it had taken for him to admit that. "Hey," she said softly, reaching for his hand, her fingers warm and smooth. "Do you know how happy I am right now? You're here with me, on a date, because you _like_ me. I happen to think that's pretty amazing. And, just for the record, there are no 'rules' of how this is supposed to work. I'm not expecting anything from you." She smiled. "The only way you could disappoint me is to tell me I suck and you don't want me around."

"Well, _that's_ not going to happen," he declared. Reflexively, his hand closed around hers. "So... what was it you wanted me to do?"

Penelope hesitated, and when she did say it, her voice was scarcely above a whisper. "Kiss me?"

Aaron's breath hitched. She was asking him to do something he hadn't done in years – not since the divorce. Did he even remember _how?_ As if prompting him, she leaned closer, and looked at him expectantly.

His insides shook as he lifted his free hand to her face and held it steady. _So soft. So…_ Rational thought failed him. Hotch bent his neck, put his mouth close enough to brush hers and closed his eyes. Instantly, his body snapped to attention; it remembered this, all right, and it wanted it. Heat surged through his blood as his mouth sealed over hers and pressed firmly. His first kiss was a gentle meeting of lips, and then a second, but that chaste touch awoke the slumbering desire inside him. With a sudden ferocity he hadn't known himself capable of, Aaron claimed her full lower lip, pulling it slack and then slipping his tongue past it so it could find her own. The taste of her mouth, all cinnamon toothpaste and cherry lip balm, assaulted his senses; his tongue greedily devoured it all, sliding restlessly against hers until she moaned.

The sound of her reaction brought him back to reality. Hotch drew back, squeezing her hand as he examined her flushed face and swollen, wet lips. As he attempted to catch his breath, it pleased him that she looked equally affected.

"Dinner," he reminded her roughly.

Penelope merely nodded, her head bobbing as though she was dizzy.

Aaron couldn't help a self-satisfied smile. "Are you all right?"

"Oh, honey, I am _way_ beyond all right," she finally managed.

He chuckled warmly. "So are we still doing take-out?"

"_Mm_. Take-out now," Garcia suggested, "make-out later?"

"I think that can be arranged." Hotch tilted his head in affirmation. He might have looked calm on the outside, but his insides were doing somersaults. The last thing he had expected was for Penelope to make such an invitation – but now that she had, he certainly wasn't going to say no.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

**Safe With You**

_Penelope_

As Hotch drove, Penelope's mind kept replaying that unbelievable first kiss. In the aftermath, she'd been lightheaded, embarrassing herself by stumbling out of the SUV and staggering into the restaurant like she was hammered. Even worse was the possibility that she might have to make a discreet trip to the bathroom once they got back, to change her underwear. _Sweet mother of Anakin Skywalker, who knew the man could kiss like that?_ she thought giddily. _Here I was thinking we could have a nice, quiet evening in front of the TV, talking and laughing – and now I'm going to be spending the next two hours trying not to attack the poor man or salivate all over him like one of Pavlov's pooches!_

"Now who's quiet?" Aaron baited, snapping her out of her stupor.

"Sorry!" she cheeped, whirling around to face him. "I didn't mean to space out on you like that."

He peered curiously over at her. "Something on your mind?"

To save face, she coated the truth in a bit of humor. "If you must know, I was reconsidering my disdain of those old-movie heroines who swooned after they got smooched."

"That good, huh?" Hotch chortled, clearly flattered. "I was worried I'd be rusty."

"Worry no more, my beautiful boss-man," Garcia replied wittily. "You could make more working the kissing booth at a county fair than Reid could on a weekend in Vegas."

Aaron actually laughed out loud, such a rare, sweet sound that she forgot all about being discomfited. "You know, I'm supposed to be making _you_ feel better," he reminded her, "not the other way around."

"You are," she assured him. "Besides, it's nice to think I help you, too."

"You _do_ help. More than you know." He shot her a lovesome look. "I've had more fun tonight than I have in years."

"Night's not over yet, Slick," she pointed out with a smirk. "More fun is on the agenda."

"Good." Garcia melted; for just an instant, the warmth in his tone had gone red-hot. The rest of the ride home was spent in a deliciously fervid silence.

When Hotch walked into her living room and she turned on the lights, he did a double-take. "I see you've done some redecorating since you left your apartment," he remarked, doubtless a polite way of saying, _Wow, this place actually looks normal._

"Yeah, I sold the last of my old furniture a few months ago. I guess I just needed a change." What she actually meant was, _After Kevin left, I couldn't stand the sight of anything that made me think of him, so pretty much everything had to go! _It had taken a few weeks to adjust to the lack of toys and random objects cluttering every available space, as well as the bright pastel colors of her furniture and walls, but these new surroundings suited her current frame of mind perfectly – cheery and bright, but wiser and more sober.

Aaron cast a sympathetic glance her way. Being a profiler as long as he had, it was easy for him to perceive the motivations behind the altered scenery. "Sometimes change can be a good thing."

"It can," she agreed. "You're here. That's definitely a good change."

"For me, too." His steady gaze was comforting. "Are you still hungry?"

"Yes!" she gasped, infinitely thankful for the change of subject. "If you want to bring the bag in the kitchen, we can get some plates and something to drink."

Busying themselves in the kitchen was an effective distraction. Hotch made himself useful opening a bottle of shiraz at her suggestion, while Garcia made plates for each of them and got out the silverware. When they'd trotted back to the living room and put dinner and wine on the coffee table, Hotch knelt by her video rack. After a moment, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"Have I stumped you, Master Profiler?" Penelope chuckled.

Aaron's broom-thick eyelashes fluttered, as they often did when he was trying to find something diplomatic to say. "Your collection _is_ a bit eclectic," he finally replied. He looked for another moment and withdrew one from near the bottom. "How about this one?"

"The Count of Monte Cristo?"

He shrugged. "It's a classic. I remember liking the book when I read it in high school."

"Well, fellow nerd, you are in good company," Garcia grinned. "One healthy dose of swashbuckling period drama, coming right up!" She put the disc in, then joined him on the couch for dinner.

By the time Abbé Faria burrowed up through the floor on the TV, they'd finished with dinner, and the mutual glances were too lengthy to ignore. Once again, knowing he wouldn't, Garcia took the lead. "Can I lean?" she simpered. "I promise not to take advantage of you."

Hotch's brows raised. "You promise?" he challenged playfully.

"No," she sheepishly confessed.

The dark-haired agent chuckled under his breath. He put his arm on the back of the couch and gave her an inviting nod. "Come on."

Beaming, she scooted over and snuggled against the profiler with an arm around his stomach. Hotch's arm descended to rest on her back, and he kissed the top of her head, making her sigh with contentment.

She buried her nose against his breast, inhaling his fragrance. _Gosh, he smells good._ The cologne suited him well – warm and woodsy, yet subtle and sophisticated – and beneath it was his own scent, softly masculine and clean. Garcia was glad she'd seen the movie more than once; there was no way she could watch it right now.

She closed her eyes, relishing his closeness and how oddly natural it felt. It dawned on her that now that she was next to him, his heartbeat in her ear and his breath tickling her neck, she didn't feel nervous anymore. A torpid smile crept over her features as his hand occupied her hair, stroking it as tenderly as one would pet a kitten. _Wow._ _I could die right now a happy woman_, she thought languidly.

"You awake down there?" Hotch teased dryly.

"_Mmm_. And supremely comfortable," she said contentedly, squeezing his middle. "For such a tough guy, you make a surprisingly good pillow."

"I hope that's the wine talking," he chuckled. "Otherwise, I must be a bad date, if I'm putting you to sleep."

"I wasn't sleepy, just relaxed," Penelope corrected him, reluctantly sitting upright.

Hotch shook his head good-naturedly. "Right. Because I'm boring you."

Her face twisted into a sardonic grin. "Is Chinese food your kryptonite? Because your Super-profiler skills are failing epically if you think that you bore me."

"It's not like you to be this quiet. Or _relaxed_," he pointed out.

"I know. It's weird. But you make me feel comfortable," she said quietly, smiling. "I feel safe with you."

His eyes softened. He understood precisely what she meant. Love had to be a terrifying proposition after dating an unsub who tried to kill you, and even more so after giving your heart to not one, but two best friends, who knew all you had to offer and still found you wanting. But she trusted _him_. With her life – and with her heart.

This time, she didn't have to ask. Aaron's lips melded passionately against hers, shutting out all coherent thought. Her fingers slid up into his black hair, weaving through its short, silky strands as her mouth opened to welcome him back. No longer frozen by the man's amazing ability to kiss, she managed to prove herself his equal in that department, winding her tongue in dueling circles that dared him to capitulate. The kiss was so intense that it barely registered when he tilted her backwards onto the couch – until she felt his hands creep beneath her blouse and clamp firmly over her breasts.

"_Mmmph_!" she gasped into his mouth, vaguely cognizant that between the two kisses and now this more intimate touch, her panties were ruined. But even that awareness slipped away as Aaron's thumbs pushed the cups of her bra down and worked insistently into her nipples. Garcia squirmed anxiously beneath him. Groping for something solid to hold onto, some anchor to keep her sane, she yanked the tail of his shirt out of his jeans and grasped the warm skin of his back. Her nails grazed lightly as his tongue left her mouth and blazed a fiery path of kisses down her neck. Desire overwhelmed her; she wanted to touch him, to make him feel the burning sensations his hands already induced in her. Instinctually, she slid a hand between them. Her palm wouldn't fit in the narrow space between his belt and his stomach, so she stroked him through the fabric instead.

A gutteral noise escaped his throat. He'd liked that – maybe too much, because he stopped then, much to her dismay. Hotch stared down at her, brown eyes heavy-lidded with desire. "Sorry. I didn't intend to go that far," he muttered, pulling away.

"Honey, I was right there with you," she reminded him breathlessly.

"I know," he murmured gratefully, "but if I hadn't stopped myself just now, I wouldn't have been able to." He sat up stiffly on the edge of the couch, turning away and running his face through his palms.

Penelope managed to get herself up, although awkwardly. She re-situated her bra and stared at his back, mystified. "You _wanted_ to stop?"

"I think it's pretty obvious what I _wanted_," Hotch scoffed.

She shook her head. "Then… why didn't you keep going?"

"Because I don't want to rush you," he explained quietly. "Nothing is going to happen between us unless I know for sure that's what you want."

Despite her lustful frustration, Garcia couldn't help but be touched by his gentlemanly gesture. She turned off the forgotten movie, stood and reached for his hand. "Get up."

Aaron's chin lifted to look at her strangely. "What?"

"Get up," she repeated, smiling when he took her hand.

"I don't understand," he murmured, rising from the couch.

"You will in a minute. Come on."

Garcia led a confused Hotch through the hallway into the back of her house. The light from the living room illuminated their way, but just barely. His head turned right and left, examining his surroundings. "Penelope, is this your bedroom?" he asked as they stopped.

"Yes." She released his hand so she could turn and stare hopefully into his inscrutable face. "You said you needed to be sure, so… here we are."

Aaron's expression softened so sweetly, it stung. "Come here," he sighed, pulling her into his arms and kissing her forehead. "You don't have to do this. We can wait."

"I don't want to wait." When Hotch looked confounded, she went on. "I spent seven years waiting on a man that didn't want me. Now, I'm standing in front of one who does. Someone I never dreamed I'd have a chance with." Being so exposed in front of him wasn't easy; she had to take a deep breath to keep her voice from trembling. "Aaron, I don't want to waste any more of my life _waiting_. Please?"

When he let her go and stepped back, Garcia was afraid she'd been too presumptuous, too forward; afraid he was going to leave, and this would be over before it even began. But then she saw what he was doing, and a tear of pure joy slipped down her cheek. God bless him, he had only moved back so he could unbutton his shirt.

"Let me help," she offered, reaching for the buttons halfway down. She hadn't undone more than two when Hotch's tongue suddenly plundered her mouth with a fury that demanded her response. Buttons forgotten, she wound her arms around his neck and poured her entire being into this kiss; passion, gratitude, admiration and affection, all communicated without words in this storm of emotion. But his hands tugging her shirt up brought her back to earth. She reticently drew back, allowing him to shimmy the pink garment over her head and toss it to the floor. Her capris quickly followed.

Aaron's eyes roved wantonly over her skin as he unclasped her bra for the second time and slid the straps down her arms, exposing almost cantaloupe-sized breasts to his view. "Incredible," he said huskily, dropping to lave one of the pink buds and suck it back so that it lightly grazed between his teeth.

Penelope's mouth hung agape. Was there nothing this man wasn't good at? Her fingers twined restlessly through his hair. Meanwhile, his hands invaded more southern territory.

A sharp breath escaped him as his fingers found their target. "You're soaked," he remarked, not seeing her blush in the dark. "When did that happen?"

Awkwardly, she smiled. "Um… I told you, you're a good kisser."

"You did. And now you've shown me." Gratified, he raised up to kiss her again, leaving his hand where it was and appreciating the noises she made as he worked his fingers. "Can I see all of you?" he petitioned between kisses.

_Like I could say no while he's doing what he's doing_, she thought, love-drunk enough to agree to almost anything. "Only if I can see you," was her condition.

"You really want to?" Hotch actually seemed surprised, enough to withdraw and arch an eyebrow.

Garcia's lips parted in disbelief. Shoving all judgment about what Haley had done to this poor man's self-esteem to the background for now, she let actions be her answer, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt and casting it aside. She undid his belt and his jeans, letting them fall to the floor, along with his arousal-tented boxers. "Oh. God." Her eyes bulged suddenly with trepidation. _No wonder he always wears those loose suit pants!_ In other circumstances, she'd have been tempted to make a 'big gun' joke, but the thought of where that thing would be going in short order was enough to induce a full-on fight-or-flight panic.

Thankfully, her apparent shock boosted rather than bruised his ego. "Are you all right?" he asked gently, cupping her face with his palm.

When she finally found her voice again, her words spilled out so fast, they almost ran together. "No, I'm not all right! I am going to _die_. You are going to be the death of me. I'm not saying it won't be a hell of a way to go, but sir, I am officially _terrified_!"

Aaron chuckled; whether at her slip of the title 'sir' or her fear of his blessed anatomy, she didn't know. "I won't hurt you," he promised faithfully. He tilted her face up to look at his eyes, and she was surprised by the depth of affection residing in them. "We'll take it slow, okay?"

"Slow," she repeated, as though it were the first word she was learning of a foreign language.

For the first time, Hotch took the lead, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling her towards him. "Slow," he echoed for her reassurance, as he unhurriedly finished undressing them both.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

**Opposites Attract**

_Aaron_

_She needs this. _That was how he justified it in his mind as he traced Garcia's panties down her thighs. _If things were different, we would take our time. But she needs this _now._ Even more than I do._

When Penelope first brought him into her room, the look on her face nearly broke his heart. The mask of her sunny smile fell away, revealing insecurities, disappointments, and fragile hopes dangling by a thread. Hotch didn't have to know the circumstances behind her breakup with Kevin to see that she'd been weakened by it, so much so that Morgan's sudden departure had shattered what strength she had left. And he didn't have to be a profiler to know that a part of her still doubted _his_ sincerity, thinking his interest was a mere act of charity to keep a friend from going over the edge. She knew he'd do almost anything for his team. But she also knew there were lines his deep-seated integrity would never allow him to cross – and this was one of them. For her, tonight would be the proof she so desperately needed to believe she could be wanted. And for himself, he was more than ready to end four years of bitter loneliness in the arms of a woman he knew he could trust with his entire being.

But four years was a long time to wait for this moment. _Too_ long. Every nerve in his body was standing on edge, agitated and screaming for relief. In hindsight, he wasn't sure that _'we'll take it slow'_ was a promise he could keep. _Unless…_ Following that line of thought, he grasped her backside firmly, and tilted her forward and up for a taste.

"_Whoa!"_ Penelope almost jumped out of his hands when his tongue swept a wide path between her folds.

"You don't like that?" he asked huskily.

"Oh, I _love_ that," she was quick to correct him, her voice already strained.

"Then, if I do that for you… would you do that for me?" Aaron murmured.

Garcia bobbed her head readily. "Oh, yeah."

The dark-haired man cocked an eyebrow. "At the same time?"

At first her mouth hung open with shock, but then it spread into a Cheshire-Cat smile. "Well, aren't _you_ surprisingly naughty!"

"Impressed?" Hotch grinned devilishly.

"Oh, you bet I am! And you're about to be," she flirted, planting a playful kiss on his mouth. "Lay back and relax, my darling… while you _can_."

Happy to accommodate, Aaron threw back the covers and laid down. He almost couldn't contain his excitement. In his entire married life, he'd done this a grand total of _once_; Haley wasn't exactly the adventurous type. He had a feeling he'd better buckle up and hold on with Garcia, though; his request seemed to have had the concurrent effect of relieving her shyness and freeing her inner vixen.

She wiggled her eyebrows at him as she put a knee on the bed. In one fast move, she swung her opposite leg over his stomach, putting her derriere square in his line of sight. Hotch's long-fingered hands clasped it again, admiring the full curves for a moment before demonstrating the kissing skills she'd enjoyed so much in an entirely different way. Garcia gasped, but only once; in half a second, her own mouth was occupied, and Aaron almost lost his grip on reality. He'd been burning, so much so that her mouth almost felt cold as it closed around him. And oh, the things she could _do_ with that mouth. Swirling, sucking, swizzling, sliding up and down – it was a miracle he didn't shoot off like some horny college kid in the first few minutes. The one thing that made the sweet torture bearable was the fact that he wasn't alone in feeling it. Already, her hips were jerking nervously above his face.

"Penelope," he finally grunted, by way of a warning, "I'm… I think I'm about to…" His jaw clenched and his eyes squinted shut as he let go, surrendering to the long-awaited ecstasy of release. For several moments, he was aware of nothing; not his labored breaths, the shudders wracking his body, or even Garcia, licking her lips slyly and turning towards him. "Sorry," he hissed when he could speak, "I wanted to… for you…"

"Honey, I already did," Hotch heard her giggle, before her lips grazed his forehead. "You would've heard me, but… yeah."

"That's good," he mumbled, still overwhelmed.

Penelope snuggled up to his side. "Geez. I know I've got mad skills, but I didn't think I was _that_ good." She paused thoughtfully. "Wait a second. Exactly how long has it been since you…"

"Haley," he replied, that one word explaining everything. He fluttered his eyes open and re-adjusted to the dim light. Above him, Garcia was gaping.

"You mean, all these years, you haven't – even just a – Oh my _God!_ No wonder you – oh, my sweet vanilla dream, you should have _said_ something!" she chided with concern.

Aaron scoffed. "I thought you were _terrified_," he reminded her wryly.

Penelope hung her head with chagrin. "Well, you _are_ pretty formidable, but… I would have gotten over it," she apologetically peeped.

_So, as scared as she was, I could have ravished her without mercy and she still would have forgiven me. Oh, Garcia._ Touched by her seemingly limitless forbearance, he couldn't help but smile. Hotch pulled her closer and was pleased when she rested her head on his chest. His scars weren't really visible in the near-darkness, but he knew she wouldn't have minded if she had seen them. It was just one more reason to love her than the hundreds he already knew. "If it makes you feel any better," he offered, "I'm a little scared myself."

"Why?" she wondered, blonde hair tickling his chin as she shifted her head.

"Because if you did _that_ to me just now," Aaron smirked, "I'm afraid to see what you can do to me when your whole body's involved."

Clearly flattered, she beamed. "Well, you know I aim to please."

"And you always do," he assured her, earning a tight squeeze and a kiss just below his neck. In the stillness that followed, he remembered something she'd said just before that had puzzled him. "Penelope?"

"Yes, my oh-so-arousing Aaron?"

Pleasantly flattered but undeterred, Hotch asked what he hadn't been able to before. "You said earlier that you never thought you'd have a chance with me. What did you mean by that?"

She snorted. "You honestly don't know?" When he didn't respond, she sighed. "Oy-vey. Where do I start? Um... Okay, when we were in the car, and you called me beautiful? It kind of freaked me out a little bit," she confessed. "I mean, I remember what Haley looked like, and you seemed to like that Kate Joyner lady an awful lot, and they were, like, doppelganger similar. And then there's _me_. I don't look anything like that. I'm not one of those itsy-bitsy women who just hops out of bed every morning looking perfect. And _you_ – gosh, I don't think you even _get_ just how amazingly gorgeous you are, not to mention wonderful, and – girls like me don't usually get chances with men like you," she finished quietly.

Aaron's chest twinged as he took all that in. She was right about one thing: he _had_ liked Kate. Losing her in the bombing had hit him hard. But Kate had been a female mirror of himself – tough, driven, professional, no-nonsense, emotions neatly compartmentalized – and that's exactly why a relationship with her wouldn't have worked. In the BAU, he'd learned that there could only be one dominant in any relationship, one personality that expected to 'rule the roost.' And Hotch's profile would clearly be termed 'alpha male.' He and Kate would have locked horns on a daily basis, battling for control. And, though it pained him to admit it, he'd had similar struggles with Haley. She'd been incredibly independent and even demanding, forcing him into the role of the submissive _'yes, dear'_ type husband to keep the peace. When he'd failed to obey her wishes in giving up his job, she'd packed her things and left.

Garcia, however, was cut from a completely different sort of mold. It was that very different breed of strength that attracted him to her, and wore down his heart's defenses over time, like water smoothing the edges off a stone. She was his natural opposite – warm, gentle, nurturing, open and artless – and these qualities, too often lacking in himself, were more apparent when he was in her presence. She was the only person he knew who could get him to open up, to smile and to feel, without asking him to lose that edge of steel he needed to do the job. Likewise, Aaron was the only one she would allow to push her out of her comfort zone and challenge her boundaries, because he would never ask for anything he didn't think her capable of doing. They balanced one another, each bringing out the best in the other, as though they'd been designed to do just that. _And you call yourself a profiler, _a voice in his head taunted, wondering why he hadn't seen this sooner.

It was obvious that Garcia was comparing herself to the image of what he'd chosen in the past, and probably to Morgan's choice as well. And she didn't compare with them. She was in a class of her own, with a beauty that shone more and more brightly with time, because it radiated from a heart that never stopped giving. He just had to find the words to get that across to her.

"Penelope, I said you were beautiful because you _are_, in more ways than you know," he answered after a moment. "You've been complimenting me all night, and I'm touched that you think so much of me, but the truth is, men don't get many chances with women like _you_, either."

"Right. I've got 'em lined up at the door," she said sardonically.

"They should be," Hotch replied in earnest. "Luckily for me, I got here first."

"_Oh!"_ Tangibly affected, Garcia sat up and kissed him, proceeding to peck little kisses all over his face. "You are," she said between smooches, "the sweetest man in the whole world!"

Aaron couldn't help laughing at her antics, although amusement was displaced by desire when she climbed on top of him and kissed him more deeply. "_Mmm_. Better be careful. I'll get the impression you're coming onto me," he teased.

"What if I am?" she grinned impishly.

"Then you'd better not be scared anymore," Hotch warned, kissing her back with fervor.

For a little while, they chuckled and kissed and petted, just enjoying each other's closeness and warmth. But before long, incredibly, that familiar prickle stirred in his groin, demanding satisfaction. He'd placated it earlier, to give Penelope a chance to get used to him, but he wasn't sure he could do that now. In fact, he was fairly certain he couldn't.

It caught Garcia by surprise when he rolled on top of her and all but rammed his tongue down her throat. Kissing her still, trying to distract her, he put a hand between them to check; she was as ready as she'd ever be. _Now or never_, he thought, positioning himself at her entrance and slowly pressing himself in.

Hotch's breath caught; his eyes rolled back and fluttered. He'd dreamt of this feeling, of pushing his cock into this narrow shaft of molten lava, only his dreams fell far short of the reality. It was a good thing she'd gotten so moist during their foreplay, because the woman was ridiculously tight. Anticipantly, Penelope wrapped her legs around his back. Breaking away from the kiss, he propped himself up with straight arms and glided his hips forward, testing how they would fit together. Below him, his lover's face squinched up, as though bracing herself for impact. But a moment later, he realized there was no reason to worry. She'd taken him in completely, without much more than a shaky gasp, and his tip barely grazed what felt like her stopping point. When he went still, Garcia opened her eyes and blinked up at him. It wasn't too much for her. She was okay; she would be okay. That knowledge relaxed him, and gave him the inner permission he needed to go on.

Tentatively, he started moving. Hotch watched her face carefully. His iron gaze bored into her innocent doe-eyes, forbidding her from looking away. A little harder now, thrusting a little faster; her eyes were wide as half-dollar coins, and her hands were on his back. Aaron's body pulsed with red-hot desire. _She's okay. She's okay_, he told himself, repeating it like a mantra as he sped up. Her walls were compressing him, all but denying him entry; he pushed back all the harder, spurred on by Garcia's tightened grip and the sound of her gasps in his ears.

Sweat beaded on his brow. Her hips rose to greet his now, following his lead, meeting his rhythm. Hotch could have cried, he was so grateful. But, typical of his precious tech analyst, it wasn't enough to meet his expectations; they had to be surpassed. Arching her back, she leaned up to lick a trail through the middle of his chest, then latched onto the side of his neck with a kiss that felt like the precursor to a hickey. He was still sane, if only just. And then, God help him, she went just one step further, and clenched her inner walls like a vise around his shaft.

Aaron came unglued. What happened next was a blur of animal passion that wouldn't come clear in his rational mind until later. Then, he would remember every moment. The blood-rushing ecstasy of slamming again and again through her constricted sheath. Her jagged cries, sweet as choirbells to his ears, and her nails raking into his back. His own agonized grunts and soft moans of pure bliss. Perspiration dripping and adding to the friction as their bodies smacked together. Pounding into her until his hips spasmed, then collapsing from pure exhaustion.

When Hotch finally came to his senses, his head was lying in the sweaty expanse between her breasts, and his body was still quaking. He could barely lift his neck, and he wasn't sure the rest of him could even budge. It felt like he'd just run a 10K – or, more accurately, about three of them, while carrying 50-pound sandbags on his shoulders.

"Welcome back," Garcia smirked, his body rising and falling with her breath.

"I'm sorry," he said immediately, letting his head droop down again.

"For what?"

"I said I wouldn't hurt you, but… I couldn't stop." He recalled the loudness of her screams in the heat of his passion, and a fresh wave of remorse flooded over him. "How bad is it?"

"Nothing a week in a wheelchair won't fix," Penelope joked dryly.

Shame darkened his brow. "I'll leave now if you want me to."

"Aaron, I was _kidding_. I don't want you to go." A weary giggle shook her chest. "Besides, I'm not sure you could get up if you wanted to. I think you lamed us _both_ up, Hotch-stuff."

The use of a witty sobriquet eased his conscience somewhat. Garcia only made those up for people who were in her good graces. Still, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'll be walking around like I sat on a cactus for a few days," she admitted, "but it was totally worth it." Chortling, Penelope kissed the crown of his head. "What time do you need to get up?"

"I have to pick Jack up at ten," he reported, "and I probably shouldn't be wearing the same clothes. He tends to be pretty observant."

"Wonder where he got _that_ trait?" she jibbed. "My clock is set for eight, so we should have just enough time for breakfast."

Hotch nodded, already drifting. "Sounds perfect. Good night."

"Good night, my love," he thought she said, as he surrendered to sleep.

*LL*

When Hotch woke, he wasn't entirely sure where he was, or why there was a warm back plastered against his torso. Then, slowly, flashbacks of the previous night came flooding back. A drowsy smile spread across his cheeks. _Garcia_. Somehow, they'd ended up spooned together, his arm slung over her hips and one of his legs trapped between hers.

"Morning," she almost incomprehensibly murmured.

Her quick response took him aback. "You're awake?"

"Not in any functional sense. Don't worry, the alarm hasn't gone off yet."

"How did you know I woke up?"

A breathy giggle escaped her. "You stopped snoring."

"Sorry," he winced, kissing her bare shoulder in apology. As he moved, he realized he was more than just awake – his body was apparently ready for a repeat of last night's events. _Uh-oh._ His eyes bulged with alarm.

"Oh, don't worry, my darling, I can sleep right through it. You're not very loud," she assuaged. She mumbled something under her breath that might have been, _Kevin snored like a frickin' freight train_.

"What time is it?" he wondered, with more than one reason for asking.

"_Mmph_." She fumbled for her cell phone on the nightstand. "Seven-fifteen. Good. Plenty of time to sleep."

_Or not_, he thought when she rolled towards him, snuggling. If she hadn't already felt something, she would any minute.

Sure enough, her eyes popped open almost comically. Penelope stared at him for a long moment, her expression for once unreadable. Then, at length, she spoke. "We're not going back to sleep, are we?"

*LL*

_A/N: One more chapter as an epilogue to wrap things up, or do you want more? Let me know, I'm still undecided!_


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: By popular demand, the story goes on. Thanks for the encouragement!_

**Chapter 12**

**Keeping a Promise**

_Penelope_

If this was a dream, she didn't want to wake up.

_But it's not a dream. 'Cause if it was, I wouldn't be this sore._ Garcia grinned, taking in the sight of the man lying next to her as the morning sun streamed onto his back. His dark hair was mussed up, and the serene expression on his face made him look ten years younger. _So this is what you look like when you don't have a million things on your mind_, she thought lovingly. If she could produce such a sweet, rested look in her surly unit chief, maybe she _was_ a bit of a goddess, after all.

Feeling her gaze, Aaron's brown eyes fluttered. "What are you over there smiling about?" his gritty voice rumbled behind a faint smirk.

"Trying to figure out if I'm deliriously happy or just delirious," she said giddily.

"Well, if you feel anything like I do, happy has to be at least part of it," Hotch simpered, leaning in for a chaste kiss. "Although I'm not ruling out delirious."

Pretending offense, she smacked the exposed side of his head, earning a low chuckle. As if on cue, her phone alarm creened David Bowie's _Let's Dance_. "_Ugh_. Eight o'clock," Penelope groaned, flipping over to turn it off.

Behind her, Hotch sat up. "You sound disappointed. I would think you'd want me to go so you could get back to sleep." He appeasingly kissed her shoulder.

"Oh, hells no! I like you right where you are, my darling," she flirted. "But, if you'll recall, I gave us enough just enough time for me to make you breakfast, so I get to keep you around a little bit longer." Sitting up, she reached behind her to pat his leg. "Veggie omelette sound okay?"

"Sounds great. I'm starving," he admitted.

"Yeah, I guess you really worked up an appetite, huh?" she said mischievously, wiggling her brows at him. Penelope leaned towards him for a quick peck on the lips. "Okay, two veggie omelettes and some juice, coming right up – as soon as I can pry these contacts out of my eyes and wash up."

Recalling that this man had just seen, touched, and kissed every part of her body, Garcia overcame her shyness enough to slide out of bed and scurry to the adjoining bathroom. She quickly washed her face and pulled her hair out of her eyes with a headband, knowing his disdain for the pigtails. Getting her contacts out was a laborious process. She sternly reminded herself never to forget and sleep in them again. With glasses and a knee-length pink robe on, she came out and found Aaron fully dressed. It was hard not to giggle at how cute he was with his rumpled clothes and sexed-up hair. "Bathroom's yours, handsome. I'm off to the kitchen."

"Be right there," he promised.

Ten minutes later, she was scooping two fluffy omelettes onto plates for them both, while Hotch was eyeing her open laptop on the table. "Even at breakfast?" he wondered aloud.

"That's for you, silly. I pulled up the Sunday edition." She brought him a plate with a grin. "Service with a smile. That's my policy."

Clearly unused to being so taken care of, he blinked a few times. "You really do think of everything. Thanks."

"My very great pleasure. _Bon appetit_." She sat beside him and tried to remember to eat and not just stare. _My goodness, that man is fine_. She'd always thought Hotch was good-looking, but breakfast never seemed so totally unappetizing as it did when compared with that big hunk of white chocolate fudge sitting beside her.

Seemingly oblivious to her gawking, Aaron scrolled down, grazing over the headlines and absentmindedly masticating. "So, how did things go with Reid the other night?"

"Not so great. He barely talked," Penelope relayed sadly.

That got his attention. Reid was naturally a chatterbox, happy to spout out streams of information on any given topic; he only turned silent when he was deeply troubled. Hotch looked up from the online newspaper, worry evident in his expression. "I know why he's hesitant with the rest of us, but I hoped he would talk to you."

"Maybe it's just too soon," she suggested.

"Maybe." He sighed heavily. "Speaking of the team, we need to discuss how this is going to work. I assume you haven't told anyone yet."

Garcia shook her head. "Until last night, there was nothing to tell. But Rossi knows, obviously."

"He talked to _you_ about it?" Aaron's brows shot up to his hairline.

She shrugged. "Well, yeah. I never would have known how you felt if he hadn't told me."

Her lover scoffed, then chuckled. "I should have known. I guess if Prentiss doesn't know already, she will soon."

"Why would _she_ know?" Penelope wondered aloud.

"Let's just say we aren't the first ones in the BAU to break the fraternization rule," Aaron alluded with a smirk.

"What?" She had to pick her jaw up off the floor when she realized what he meant. "Oh my God – _Rossi_? No way!"

"_Way_," he affirmed mirthfully.

Garcia laughed out loud. "Are they serious?"

"If they're not yet, they will be," Hotch informed her. "Just between us, Dave's planning to propose before long."

"_Oh my GOSH!_ That is _so_ great!" she pealed, hopping up and down excitedly in her chair. "I mean, they've always been such good friends. I think they'll be really happy." Her heart overflowed with joy for them. "So, does this mean the rule about not fraternizing doesn't really matter that much?"

Hotch frowned. "The anti-fraternization policies were put in place to discourage sexual harassment," he said, as though reading from a textbook. "They can't forbid legitimate relationships or marriages, although in some cases, partners _have_ been reassigned to other units."

Garcia frowned as she read between the lines. "So, if we were to come out and say we're dating…one of us might have to leave the BAU?"

"That's the risk," Aaron nodded solemnly. "Dave doesn't mind taking it. He's got his career as a writer and a fortune to fall back on. Worst case scenario, he goes back into retirement and comes back on a semi-regular basis to consult on cases, while Emily stays with us full-time."

As he fell quiet, her throat suddenly felt dry. "We can't say anything, can we?" she presumed.

"We can't be _open_ about it," he slightly amended. "I don't mind JJ and Reid knowing, but if we want to keep the team together, it can't go any further than that." Hotch locked her gaze to impress the gravity of his point. "At work, we'll be the same as we've always been, and outside of work, we'll be free to pursue this. Can you live with that?"

"Of course. Whatever it takes to keep us all together," Garcia nodded readily.

"Thank you. I know it's unfair, but for now, this is the only solution." Aaron reached for her hand. "I need to go in a minute, but first I have a promise to keep."

Penelope searched her love-befuddled mind, trying to think of what that might be. "A promise?" she finally echoed, drawing a blank.

"To Jack. I told him I'd ask you a question," he explained, eyes twinkling. "Penelope, will you be my girlfriend?"

_Oh! Sweet preciousness! That really was what Jack was trying to do!_ "I most certainly will," she beamed.

"Good." Visibly pleased, he squeezed her palm. "Well, now that it's official, what are my _girlfriend's_ plans for the day?" he jokingly asked.

_Girlfriend. Oh, I like the sound of that!_ In fact, she liked it so much, it was hard to sit still and refrain from letting out an excited squeal. "Play practice at six. Victims' families support group at eight-thirty," she rattled off. "And what are my _boyfriend's_ plans?"

"Spend some quality time with his son, and hopefully the aforementioned girlfriend?" he suggested, standing.

"You know, those sound like great plans," Penelope nodded smugly, following him to the front door.

"I thought so. Come here." Hotch drew her in for another of his knee-weakening, thought-inhibiting kisses. "Lunch with Jack and me, one o'clock, at my place?"

Her head spun. Those kisses were going to take some serious getting used to – not that she minded. "Okay," she agreed breathlessly.

"Then, I'll see you in a little while. And I want to hear all about your play later. Don't forget," he winked as he left.

_Forget?_ she thought as she surreptitiously ogled his backside walking to his car. _Oh no, my Smokin' Hot-chner. I won't forget. Not one delicious fraction of a second. _Ignoring the ache between her thighs, she danced all the way to the shower.

*LL*

When she got to the door of Aaron's apartment, she could smell the aroma of baked fish wafting into the hall. Jack was waiting to greet her, grinning like the cat who ate the canary. "Hi, Miss Penelope."

"Hey, Jack Rabbit. Can I come in?"

"Yes," he nodded, letting her inside.

"Thanks," Penelope nodded graciously. She closed the door behind them. "So, where's your dad?"

"In the kitchen." He turned around and called into the other room. "Daddy, your girlfriend is here!"

Garcia stifled a laugh. Obviously, Hotch had already told him.

"Come on back," he invited. "Lunch is almost ready."

Garcia strode into the small kitchen, where Aaron was taking the fish out of the oven. "Hey there."

"Hi," he murmured, chocolate eyes still shining from their morning together. It was enough to give her shivers.

"Need any help?" she asked before she could get too lost in his lover's gaze.

"Um, sure. Do you care to get the plates and forks out? And glasses for the drinks?"

"You got it. And Jack can tell me where everything is, right?"

"_Uh-huh_." Eager to help, the sandy-haired boy pointed to the cabinets and drawers she needed. He put the silverware on the table, giving the couple time for a quick kiss – or so they thought, until they broke and saw him hiding his eyes. "Daddy, you're gonna get cooties," he warned, shaking his head.

"I am?" Hotch grinned, winking at Garcia. "Are you sure?"

"That's what happens when you kiss a girl," Jack flatly informed him.

"Oh. Well, you know you can't catch them, right?" his father asked.

"You can't?"

"No. But they're actually not that bad."

"They're not?"

"When you get older, they're actually good for you," Hotch said wisely. "So, are you hungry?"

"Yeah." The diversion worked. Jack took a basket of bread to the table while they took the other dishes, and the three sat together to share their meal.

Hotch turned out to be a decent cook. He even mentioned that Rossi had given him a few recipes to try. _Not that it's surprising_, Penelope thought, savoring the fish and the perfectly steamed rice and vegetables. _I'm pretty sure the man is good at everything._

The afternoon was as lighthearted as the night had been intense. At the nearest park, they took a walk and let Jack play with the other kids who were out to enjoy the sunshine. While the boy was climbing the fortress and waving down at them, Garcia felt Aaron's long fingers lace through hers and tickle her palm. They shared a smile. No words were necessary; their eyes said it all. _I'm so happy. This means so much to me. I can't wait to be with you again. I'm yours, for as long as you want me. God knows I want you._

It was like being in a dream. Somehow, in less than forty-eight hours, she had totally fallen in love with this man, and every look, every word just made it that much deeper. _Maybe I've loved him for ages and didn't know it,_ she considered now. It wasn't outside the realm of possibility. Whatever the case, any feelings she'd ever had for Kevin or even Morgan paled in comparison.

"You never told me about your play," he reminded her then, bringing them back to the real world.

"_Arsenic and Old Lace_. I'm Aunt Abby," Penelope informed him.

Hotch's brows raised slightly. "Should I be concerned? This is the second time you've been cast as a female unsub," he chaffed.

"Sweetheart, you are completely safe from me," she bantered. "Besides, why would I kill people when I can destroy their lives with a few clicks of my keyboard?"

"And you thought Andi Swann was terrifying," he remarked, shaking his head. "She's got nothing on you."

Garcia giggled. "Well, luckily for you, I'm on _your_ side."

"I _am_ lucky," Aaron replied, making her pleasantly shudder. "I've got the best technical analyst in the world on my team, and now, thanks to you, I've got _cooties_."

*LL*

_A/N: Coming up, the team's reactions, and Morgan finds out too... As always, reviews are love, so please share!_


End file.
